Just Relax
by Queen'sJester
Summary: When Harry Meets Draco for a duel in a certain third-floor corridor, they suddenly find themselves in a bind.  M/M
1. Chapter 1

One.

This was stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

His damn pride was too delicate to let him walk away from any duel, much less this one. But submitting to Malfoy's terms?

Harry gritted his teeth. It was his own fault, really, for starting a row with Malfoy in the middle of the corridor, but how would he have known that Draco would want to duel in the third-floor right wing? It brought back memories of his first year, and Fluffy.

He would be a cat person, were it not for Umbridge's obsession with the creatures. Maybe he could be a rabbit person, or an owl person?

"Potter."

Harry started- Malfoy had been quiet. "Malfoy. You certainly took your time."

Malfoy stepped into the light from a nearby torch, sneering as he spoke, "Getting worried? I wouldn't leave you waiting, Potter. I've been itching to hex you for months."

"Likewise," Harry spat. "I believe it is traditional to bow, but that might give you the idea that I remotely respect-"

"_Impedimenta!_"

Harry stumbled out of the spell's way, and it shattered a window behind him. A gush of cold air hit the back of his neck. "_Stupefy!_" Harry responded, aiming at Malfoy's grinning face.

"_Protengo! Flipendo!_"

Harry was thrown backwards. He rolled away, trying to get out of range, and felt glass catch in his robes and crunch under his weight. "_Locomoto mortis!_"

The spell ricocheted off of the picture frame Malfoy stood in front of, tearing a hole in a nearby tapestry. "_Immoblus!_" Malfoy shouted. Harry covered his head with his hands as another pane of glass exploded above his head.

"_Furnucu-_" Harry started.

"Who's there!"

Malfoy's eyes met Harry's. Somewhere in their mutual panic, an agreement was made. "Where do we go?" Malfoy hissed as Harry scrambled to his feet.

There was only one place. "Follow me. Hurry!" Harry sprinted off, Malfoy directly behind him until he reached the door. "_Alohomora!_" He cried softly, jerking the door open and dragging Malfoy inside.

For a moment there was nothing but their breathing in the stifling darkness.

"_Lumos,_" Malfoy whispered, igniting his wand tip and illuminating their faces too close together. Harry quickly backed off and repeated the spell.

In the combined wandlight, the room was revealed. The trapdoor was open carelessly, the only feature of the bare room worth looking at. Tendrils of a dark green, veiny looking plant had snuck up to surround the opening in the past years since the first adventure, stirring gently as the light revealed it.

"What's that?" Malfoy asked mutedly. His voice quavered slightly.

"Devil's Snare. It's been there for-"

Malfoy lunged toward Harry and clapped a hand over his mouth, cutting him off. "Mmph!" Harry protested, but Malfoy's wide eyes didn't allow for any argument. Soon, he heard it, too.

"…Students trying to be rebellious, breaking windows and ripping our ancestor's tapestries. Mrs. Norris, is there no respect left in the castle?" A beat of silence. "We'd best move on. Professor Dumbledore can be told in the morning, after we have rested."

Malfoy's eyes were huge, only a couple inches from Harry's. They were locked together until Filch's footsteps faded away.

Harry's wand lay a few feet away, having been knocked away when Malfoy grabbed him. Malfoy's wand showed them each other's faces.

They were frozen for a few moments before Malfoy jerked his hand away, looking shell-shocked and a little… embarrassed? He made a move as if to step back, only to stumble forward and crash into Harry.

"Wha-?"

"Something's got my leg!" Malfoy gasped, one hand clenched on Harry's shoulder to steady himself.

"You're imagining…" Harry stiffened, feeling something terribly familiar tighten on his legs, inching higher as Harry realized it too late. "Shit, it's the Devil's Snare… give me your wand!"

Too late: a strand snapped Malfoy's wand away from him. It hit a wall and went out, plunging them into darkness.

The stems moved faster than the boys could decide what to do, and in seconds they were both trussed up. Harry clawed at the vines before they secured his arms to his sides.

He felt Draco try to remove his hand from Harry's shoulder, but a vine suddenly wrapped around the other boy's wrist, pulling it across Harry's back to his waist and yanking them together. Harry gasped loudly in surprise at the sudden contact, feeling Malfoy tense. There was a moment of shock before the two tried to get away from each other, but the plant's tendrils wrapped around them from toes to their shoulders.

Harry felt himself flush deeply as he found himself nose-to nose with Malfoy.

Malfoy continued to struggle, and Harry shook himself (the contact affecting him in embarrassing ways) and hissed, "The plant won't let go unless we relax, Malfoy!"

"Like hell it will!" Draco snapped, sounding more nervous than fearful as he struggled.

As if in retaliation, the plant tightened it's grip… around their hips.

Harry let out an alarmed breath as his semi-hard cock met with Draco's lower half. He waited for the insults, the disgust.

Instead… was that what he thought it was?

Draco's- no, _Malfoy's_- breathing hitched noticeably, and in addition to the nonexistent space between their hips, Harry found himself noticing the inch of air between their lips.

No, no, no, this was Malfoy!

"S-so you said it… lets go if you relax?"

Harry couldn't stop himself from licking his lips and swallowing. "Y-yeah."

There were two seconds of silence, and Harry sensed a movement that wasn't caused by the tightening plants.

It started as a brush of lips, a gentle experiment that made Harry's breath hitch and his cock harden. Then he felt Draco's lips open, and he met him halfway.

With a soft groan, Harry strained his arms against the Devil's Snare, trying to pull Draco closer. To his amazement and relief, the vines relented, and he slid his arms around Draco's back to hold him. The kiss grew deep and full of dark promise. Draco's other arm came up and twined itself in the hair at the back of Harry's neck, trying for control.

Harry's hand coasted over Draco's vine-wrapped lower back. He only hesitated a moment before reaching lower to squeeze Draco's ass at the same time that the vines around their lower bodies loosened, only to go even more taunt than before. They both moaned. Draco's hips bucked into his, unbidden by the vines, and Harry ground back, kissing harder.

In a split second, Harry felt himself overbalance. He toppled over, tripped by the vines around his and Draco's ankles. Hitting the floor hurt a little, but it also made Draco's hips crash into his, eliciting throaty cries from them both. Draco's hands came between them, trying to take off his and Harry's clothes at the same time. Harry was impatient, and he wasn't as careful, momentarily breaking the kiss to tear off Draco's robes until there was nothing between them.

They clutched at each other, grinding and kissing as the passion mounted and peaked. Harry couldn't stop himself from moaning and whimpering as Draco's hands found his hips and used the grip as leverage to increase the delectable friction as their erections rubbed together.

"God, Draco," he murmured into the heated kiss. The hands on his hips tightened, and Harry felt the final deep grind throughout his entire body, turning his vision white and wracking his body with pleasure.

He shouted out loud, the sound muted by Draco's lips on his. Though the pulses of pleasure, Harry heard a similar sound issue from Draco's throat.

They collapsed into limp heaps on the floor, clinging to one another as their breathing returned to normal. Dimly, Harry felt the last of the Devil's Snare recede from their ankles.

(TBC)


	2. Chapter 2

_They collapsed into limp heaps on the floor, clinging to one another as their breathing returned to normal. Dimly, Harry felt the last of the Devil's Snare recede from their ankles._

_

* * *

_

When Harry woke up, he was alone. His robes were puddled around him, messy with dust and… He didn't know what to think first, going on autopilot as his hands collected his wand and performed cleaning charms. As he slid on his pants, he winced at a burst of pain.

A quick mutter of _lumos_showed him bruises in the shapes of Draco's fingers across his hipbones.

_Damn Dra- Malfoy,_ he mentally corrected.

Harry hurried from the room, almost forgetting to look both ways for Filch. He didn't slow down until he was in the dormitories, and he barely paused to get undressed before collapsing into his bed. The clock said three twenty-nine.

* * *

_Draco's hands glided over his skin, caressing and clutching as they kissed, long and deep. Their bodies moved together between the sheets, and Harry gripped Draco's hips, urging them faster, begging for more-_

"Ah!" Harry stat bolt upright, panting. No one else stirred.

The clock hands reported that it was barely past four in the morning, but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again.

He slipped out of bed and began to rummage through his trunk quietly, looking for his Herbology textbook. When he couldn't find it, he instead grabbed his invisibility cloak and snuck out of the dormitory.

Harry silently made his way to the library. It had been a while, and he had to stop himself from veering automatically towards the restricted section. Instead he immersed himself in Herbology.

For almost an hour he searched book after book, flipping pages and stifling yawns. At last, he found a book titled, _Unproven Theories: a Look at the Possibilities of Herbology._

There was an entire section on Devil's Snare.

He clutched it to his chest and slunk from the library, hastening to his bed, where he pulled the covers over his head and lit his wand.

_Devil's Snare is a fairly rare species, found primarily in England, Ireland and Wales. It is known to ensnare its victims and hold them, choking and squeezing them to death if…_

Harry skimmed the page, skipping over the things he knew.

Finally, he found it.

_Most Herbologists are not convinced of its existence, but many others believe that there is a certain kind of Devil's Snare that is able to sense physical attraction, especially if it has been repressed or ignored for too long. The plant, instead of holding on until the victims relax, will not release them until they give in to their desires._

_Sexual gratification is usually normal, but sometimes the plant supposedly excretes a substance composed of magical compounds that calls both victims back to the plant at the same time for repeat encounters. This usually occurs at night, but can happen any time._

_There are no definite examples of this phenomenon other than the reports of wizards and witches who, at the time, were not believed to be in their right mind. However, traces of Devil's Snare were found on the people, making their stories seem more believable._

Harry rested his head on the page and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

_Sexual gratification…_

_Repeat encounters_.._._

_Any time…_

_Can sense physical attraction…_

_Repressed or ignored…_

It could be just a silly theory, just some old fool tittering to himself and trying to think up the filthiest possible idea.

Maybe.

* * *

"Harry! Harry, wake up, we're going to miss breakfast."

Harry rolled over and almost fell out of bed. He blinked blearily at Ron before rummaging around under his pillow for his glasses, which had come off in his sleep.

"Blimey, mate, you look like hell! What'd Malfoy do to you?"

"Nothing!" Harry said too quickly, before recovering. "I mean, he can't shoot straight anyway, but he broke some windows. I was too busy dodging the glass to get a decent shot in."

"Oh." Ron looked disappointed. "I'd hoped that you hexed him bad this time, after what he said about Fred and George."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, mate!" Ron exclaimed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "I just wish I'd been there. What a stupid set of rules! No other people? What's the fun there, right?"

"Right," Harry muttered. He was thankful that today was Sunday –no classes. He didn't want to face Malfoy any more than he had to; he didn't know what would happen, or even what Drac- _Malfoy_ was thinking. Harry felt a cold brick settle into his belly. Maybe he was already spreading stories, saying things, telling people-

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looked at Ron with wide, startled eyes. "Of course. Why?"

Ron frowned a little. "You've put your shirt on backwards."

Oh. "Just tired. You go on to breakfast, I'll meet you and Hermione there."

Shrugging, Ron left Harry alone in the dormitory. He paused in the doorway. "You know, I can save some toast or something for you. You look awful, mate."

Harry shook his head, keeping the weak smile firmly in place until his best friend had left the room. As soon as Ron had gone, Harry sat down on his bed, holding his head with both hands. Thoughts of Draco bubbled up. His hands, mouth, eyes… and other, more forbidden parts of Draco.

He shivered, feeling himself get a little hard just by thinking about the previous night. Harry never admitted that his bad dreams about Draco weren't always… _bad._Not in the traditional sense, at least.

_Stop it!_Harry chided himself, and busied his hands with fixing his shirt and finishing getting dressed. He was still a little hot under the collar, but managed to dispel his arousal by thinking of Umbrage and Snape.

Making it to the Great Hall in one piece, Harry determinedly stared anywhere that wasn't the Slytherin table as he walked quickly to where Ron and Hermione chatted idly.

"Harry, you look terrible!" Hermione cried, standing quickly when she saw him.

"I'm not that bad, Hermione," Harry protested halfheartedly. He sat next to Ron, taking three pieces of buttered toast that had gone cold more than an hour earlier.

Ron must have told Hermione what he knew about the fight, because she didn't ask questions. Instead, they talked about some essay due in Charms. Harry nibbled on his toast for a few minutes before the drowsiness renewed itself with greater force, and he excused himself without explanation.

He walked quickly from the Great Hall, not watching where he was going. He crashed into someone.

"S-sorry," Harry stammered, looking around for the person he'd run into.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of him, ears quickly going scarlet as he stared at Harry as if Harry had offered him a Hippogriff tongue.

"D… Malfo-"

Before he could get a word out, Draco had spun on his heel and set off quickly in the opposite direction, leaving Harry in the figurative dust.

Harry collapsed into bed the instant he reached the bedrooms. He kicked off his shoes and dragged his shirt over his head before getting under the covers.

* * *

_Harry sat in his chair in Transfiguration, watching professor McGonagall as she turned a row of rats into instruments. A piano, flute, violin, and saxophone bubbled into shape out of the furry creatures. When Harry's gaze returned to his professor, he instead found Draco._

"_What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco called, stalking over. "You're not supposed to be here. You might do something you'll regret."_

_The background shifted, and suddenly they were in the trapdoor room, and Harry was seated on a chair of Devil's Snare._

_And Draco was naked._

"_N-no, we shouldn't," Harry panted as Draco straddled his hips, not seeming to notice as the vines wrapped around his back and legs, securing them together. "Oh,_Draco!_"_

"_Shh," Draco shushed against Harry's lips. The blonde's thighs tensed around Harry's hips as he circled above the obvious bulge in Harry's trousers. One of his hands trailed over Harry's chest, making its way nonchalantly to his erection and palming it without undoing the bothersome garment._

_Harry moaned, arching into the teasing touch. Draco licked his lower lip before attaching their mouths and asserting his dominance in the form of a tongue thrust and a sharp squeeze to Harry's cock._

_Submitting, Harry allowed himself to be pushed down onto the bed of leaves. He groaned and shivered as Draco removed his clothes with the practiced ease of someone who knew what he wanted._

"_I do know what I want," Draco murmured into Harry's ear. "I want you."_

_Silencing Harry's moan with a press of fingers, Draco began to work his way to Harry's crotch with his mouth, trailing open-mouthed kisses over his chest and torso._

_Finally settled between Harry's legs, Draco smirked. One of his fingers slipped between his lips, and he gave Harry a look that was pure lust and deviance. "But do you want me?"_


	3. Chapter 3

O-kay. I kept forgetting to give disclaimers and such at the beginning of chapters, and rather than go back and add them, I'll make up for it here.

Disclaimer: So, I went up so J.K. Rowling the other day and was all like, "Yo, J.K., I want you to lend me the rights so I can make some fast cash on this awesome Draco/Harry fanfic I have rolling around in my head. How 'bout it?" And she laughed and laughed and laughed. After a while she stopped, and said, "Wait, seriously? I thought that was the best joke of the year!" So instead, I own nothing. This is for fun. XD

Warning: Because I was corrupted young, I can't exactly tell young people not to read this, but I will anyway: Please don't read this unless you've already been corrupted. Also, it has graphic M/M sex, so if you don't like that, don't read it.

Alright, I think I've covered just about everything. I hope you're enjoying the fic, and I plan to have lots more chapters.

* * *

_Finally settled between Harry's legs, Draco smirked. One of his fingers slipped between Harry's lips, and Draco gave him a look that was pure lust and deviance. "But do you want me?"_

"_Draco, _please!"

"_Very well… if you insist."_

Harry sat bolt upright, gasping and sweating and much harder than he would admit.

Ron looked at him sheepishly as he bent to pick up his Potions book. "Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to wake you, I was just getting this," he waved the large volume next to his head. "So that Hermione could explain to me what a Sentrificus potion does. That was the class when I was asleep, remember?"

"In potions, when are you _not _asleep?" Harry yawned hugely, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand.

"Ah. Right. I'll go, see if you can rest some more… you look even worse than you did this morning!"

"Thanks, Ron." Harry snorted, reaching for his pillow, which had fallen to the floor.

"Anytime."

Ron left the room, accompanied by a thump and muffled curse as the book escaped his fingers again.

Harry buried his face in the pillow and screamed. When every last bit of air had been released, he fell back on his mattress. God, when would the dreams end? If anything, the dreams were more vivid now than they had been before. Harry peeked under the covers at his lingering erection.

_Way _more vivid.

Maybe if he tried to sleep again, he wouldn't dream, Harry prayed desperately as he pulled the covers over his head.

* * *

Four hours (and as many dreams) later, Harry shuffled his way into the common room. Ron and Hermione were sitting in front of the fire, and quickly made room for him.

"Harry!" Hermione fretted, "Did you sleep at all!"

"A bit, between the dreams." Harry muttered, scrubbing his face with his palms.

"Dreams?" Ron asked, brow furrowed.

Harry scrambled for a topic. "Of… Fluffy! Chasing me through the Dursley's house, breaking things… I wake up exhausted!"

"I hear you, mate. I had this reoccurring one about those talking spiders for ages!" Ron shuddered.

"You really need to sleep, Harry," Hermione wrung her hands, and Harry felt a surge of tired affection for his friends. "Maybe you could go to Madame Pomfrey?"

Harry leaned back against the couch cushions, sighing. "No, they're just stupid dreams, so stupid," he grumbled, hardly noticing he was falling asleep until his eyes had slid shut.

* * *

When Harry woke up, the fire had burned to embers and Ron and Hermione were entering though the portrait hole. The commons were deserted.

"Harry, you're awake!" Hermione cried. "Did you dream? I tried this new spell, it is supposed to knock you out for a few hours, and I though you could use it."

"It worked great," Harry said, sitting up. "I feel so much better… When's dinner, should I get dressed?" He was in his robe and pajama bottoms.

"Um, Harry… we just came from dinner. We were the last ones. Everyone else has gone to sleep." Ron looked at the floor, nudging the thick carpet with one foot.

Harry groaned, flopping back against the couch. "Fantastic," He said as his stomach protested the news vehemently.

"There's a bar of Honeydukes' upstairs, Harry. I can get it i-i-i-f you want," Hermione's words were overtaken by her enormous yawn.

Standing and stretching, Harry shook his head. "You guys get to bed. I'm too awake, I'll come up later." Pulling his cloak out of one of the robe's bigger pockets, he made his way to the door. "Really, I'll be fine."

After a few more moments of cajoling, Ron and Hermione trudged to their respective dormitories and Harry, cloaked, left the common room.

He wandered the halls aimlessly, enjoying the quiet. He was on the second floor, watching two paintings make insulting gestures at each other when it hit him.

It didn't feel like a punch- more like someone had taken a hot mug of cocoa and dumped it on his groin. He couldn't control his gasp as he went reeling into the wall, knees shaking.

"God," He whispered, feeling arousal flare up in ways that he never had. Harry was still moving, stumbling, but all his attention was on the sensations traveling through him in waves, beginning and ending at his crotch.

Through the haze of lust, Harry saw that he was on the third floor, veering uncontrollably toward the trapdoor room.

Fingers shaking, he undid the latch and scrambled inside.

The second he was in, something long and vicious whipped his wand out of his hand and yanked his robe off, quickly ridding him of his pants in the same instant.

Harry only had a moment to feel the cold before a blazing body was pulled sharply against his. Lips rushed along his jaw, to his lips.

Passion exploded. Harry grabbed the person harshly, holding their hair in a death grip to help maneuver the kiss. Naked thighs pressed against his own briefly, then a hand curled behind his knee and jerked his leg around the other person's hip. Harry bucked eagerly, feeling the lips he was assaulting tremble with a moan.

Their erections ground together, and Harry saw lights as the taunt vines around them began to rhythmically move the pair back and forth. Hands were everywhere, the other man's lips moving to bite and suck at the skin at the base of Harry's neck.

Harry's moans echoed freely in the cavernous room as he tossed his head to one side, almost begging.

Then, just as their hip crashed together the vines constricted, holding them in the position that made them both cry out in bliss. Harry thrust desperately in his half-crazed state of pleasure.

Just as he was about to go truly insane, the other man's hands gripped his ass tightly and whispered, "Come on, Potter."

Harry's face buried in Draco's shoulder, driven over the edge by his archenemy's hands and voice, and pressed his lips into the soft skin to stifle his shriek of ecstasy.

Draco followed immediately, hips jerking. The plants lowered them to the dusty floor, Draco on top, peppering lazy kisses on Harry's neck and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin over his jugular.

"Ah," Harry breathed, shivering slightly in the wake of his climax.

"Was it good for you too, Potter?" Draco's muffled, but still amused voice met Harry's ear.

Harry laughed a little in the back of his throat. "Shut up, Malfoy."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: After J.K. Rowling's first refusal to give me the rights, I was crushed. Then I decided, when the going gets tough, the tough get a lawyer. So I went to Mr. Cheatem and told him my dilemma, and he laughed and laughed and laughed. After a while he stopped, told the to get a life, and charged me $500. What a jerk. Anyway, I don't own the rights, this is only for fun (for now... XD).

Warning: Because I was corrupted young, I can't exactly tell young people not to read this, but I will anyway: Please don't read this unless you've already been corrupted. Also, it has graphic M/M sex, so if you don't like that, don't read it.

* * *

"Was it good for you too, Potter?" Draco's muffled, but still amused voice met Harry's ear.

Harry laughed a little in the back of his throat. "Shut up, Malfoy."

* * *

Even though he had just had sex, Harry was still halfway aroused. Something about the way Draco's body molded over his, or maybe the plant was doing something to him, but either way, it was happening.

Draco's lips, which had been resting peacefully on Harry's neck, suddenly migrated to the place he had tortured the night before and parted to bite the sensitized skin.

"Gah!" Harry cried out before he could stifle it. Draco chuckled darkly above him, licking a long trail to Harry's ear. He then proceeded to nip and tease the lobe until Harry was panting heavily underneath him.

"Careful, Potter," Draco mouthed against Harry's throat. "You're looking… desperate." He bit the tender skin under Harry's jaw, and Harry shivered.

"Stop, Malfoy, I need to talk to you- we shouldn't be- _uhn,_" Harry's brain shorted out as Draco reached down and squeezed his erection.

"Shouldn't be? Probably. Don't want to be? That seems unlikely, considering your current predicament." Another rough squeeze, and Harry grunted, closing his eyes tight. Because of this, he had no warning when Draco grabbed his chin and tilted it down firmly to kiss him.

_If he won't listen, I'll make him pay attention, _Harry thought. He grabbed the back of Draco's head and forced him closer, making his lips open and plundering the new space with his tongue. Harry jerked up, turning them over so he was on top. Draco laughed a little in the back of his throat, which quickly turned into a moan as Harry began to rock their hips back and forth.

One of Draco's hands ghosted over Harry's ass, moving in dangerous, delicate circles before-

Oh, hell no.

Harry jerked back, scrambling off of the Slytherin. He didn't stop until he had the stone blocks of the wall against his back, and he watched Draco's lithe form suspiciously. His heart pounded, his breathing was irregular, and he was harder than Draco, from the looks of things.

"No, absolutely not," Harry hissed. "I'm having enough trouble believing this is happening without you trying to- to-"

Draco sat up smoothly, basking in the slight glow that came from the thick crack under the door. "Honestly. It's almost as if you've never done this before, Potter."

There was a long silence. "Dr- Malfoy, this is ridiculous-"

"No, it isn't. It's sex."

"I'm not gay!" Harry blurted.

"I don't believe that for a second," Draco snorted, getting to his feet.

Harry saw him approaching, and tried to melt into the wall. "Stop. Stop!"

Draco stopped. Harry was struck silent with shock; he hadn't expected Draco to obey him. The blonde crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine, Potter. You want to leave, go right ahead."

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn't question it, only slid along the wall towards the door. He was a few feet away when something wrapped around his wrists and pinned them together above his head, making him shout out and struggle.

"Oh, right. There's the little problem of the magical plant wanting you to stay. What was it you said last night, Potter… Just relax?" More vines strapped his kicking legs against the wall. "Follow your own advice. Relax, or we'll never get out of here- or is that what you want?"

Draco stalked up to him and ran one finger down Harry's chest. Harry shivered, tilting his head back against the wall and biting his lip. The single digit stopped just short of Harry's navel and swept back up, the attached hand splaying on his chest. "You're heart's beating rather hard, Potter. Nervous about something? Or maybe excited…"

"No, don't- Ah!" Harry's body arched toward the hand on his cock, completely out of his control. Draco was merciless, stroking him from base to tip in fast, hard pumps that left Harry writhing. He tossed his head from side to side, trying in vain to control himself even as Draco brought him closer and closer to the edge of release. Just as he was about to climax, Draco's thumb and forefinger tightened around the base of his erection. Trapped on the brink of pleasure, Harry choked out a curse as his hips bucked.

"You know, Potter, I kind of want to savor this moment."

"What the fucking hell, Malfoy!" Harry growled through clenched teeth. He was half-blind from the pleasure, still trying to thrust into Draco's hand until a second hand pushed against his hips and held him against the wall.

"You, looking to helpless and needy, trying to resist temptation; it's very alluring. But do you know what would be even _better?_"

White teeth flashed in the darkness, and Harry moaned loudly as one of Draco's fingers touched the underside of his cock.

"What do y-you want?" Harry hissed, hating himself for stammering.

"Beg."

"_What?_"

Draco's breath was hot and heavy, right in Harry's ear. "Beg for me, Potter, and I'll give you what you want."

* * *

(TBC)

Sorry for the semi-wimpy chapter length and sort-of cliffhanger; I won't keep you guys waiting too long.

I want to thank the people who have reviewed- I get way too excited about them! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm almost embarrassed at how short the chapters are becoming! However, I'm also a little mad at myself for waiting so long to upload a chapter. Sorry, everyone!**

**Also, this weekend will probably give me a lot of time to write and such, so be on the lookout! :) Thank you's to all of my readers and reviewers, especially! You all are great!**

**Disclaimer: So after being spurned by J.K. Rowling and Mr. Cheatam, I went to my sister, who is training to be a lawyer. I said, "Hey, sis, I need your help! We're going to fight for the rights to Harry Potter, so I can publish this awesome Harry-Draco fanfic and make a boatload of cash. You in?" And she slapped me upside the head with her case files (*ouch*) and said, "You dummy, you'll never get those right. Quit kidding yourself and go write story of your own." Then she turned and walked away with a "Kick me" sign on her back. Despite that small humorous moment, I still don't have the rights to Harry Potter. Damn. **

Warning: Because I was corrupted young, I can't exactly tell young people not to read this, but I will anyway: Please don't read this unless you've already been corrupted. Also, it has graphic M/M sex, so if you don't like that, don't read it.

_Draco's breath was hot and heavy, right in Harry's ear. "Beg for me, Potter, and I'll give you what you want."_

* * *

Ten minutes later, Harry was practically writhing in place, pulling against the Devil's Snare and panting. Behind him, Draco added another finger, slick with some sort of lubricant. The fingers pumped in and out leisurely, sometimes altering their direction slightly to brush against something that made Harry arch his back and cry out from the jolt of pleasure it sent through him.

"I can work you like this forever, Potter. Or you could just say please…" Malfoy taunted him, biting Harry's earlobe and making him shiver.

Harry bit his lip to keep himself from cursing at Draco with everything he had. The blonde was smirking at him, he could tell. He was thinking up something harsh and demanding, something that would _make _Draco cut him down and let him go, when Draco's fingers suddenly curled inside him and repeatedly battered the bundle of nerves inside him. "O-oh, _God, MALFOY!_" He screamed.

"…Yes?"

Harry shuddered and moaned as the fingers continued their assault. "Please!"

"Please what?"

"Please- _gah! _– fuck me!"

"Thought you'd never ask."

The fingers vanished, only to be replaced by something bigger. Draco slammed in all the way, letting out a groan as he pushed his face into Harry's neck and gripping Harry's hips to begin pounding into him. Harry was making keening noises that even _he _didn't recognize, and his trembling grew more and more intense as Draco rammed into him from behind. Each thrust sent fresh flashes of ecstasy through his body. There was hardly any pain because of the long minutes of preparation, and any pain that managed to exist was washed away by the phenomenal sensations.

"Faster," Harry moaned, feeling Draco comply instantly. The strokes were slightly irregular as Harry tried to move backward to meet each one.

Abruptly, the vines holding him and, subsequently, Draco up withdrew from Harry's wrists and ankles, causing the boys to pitch forward. Harry almost landed on his face, but avoided it as Draco fell on top of him. There was a long beat of silence before Harry half-muttered, half-demanded, "What do you think you're doing? Keep going!"

There was a low chuckle behind him as Draco pulled Harry onto his hands and knees. "If you insist, Potter."

There was only a split-second of silence as Draco nudged Harry's knees further apart before Draco pushed back in and began fucking Harry in earnest. Harry's eyes rolled back in his head at the feeling, and he would have screamed if one of Draco's hands hadn't moved up to his mouth and clapped over it, as if anticipating the reaction. Draco's other arm went around Harry's waist to help support them both as he repeatedly slammed into Harry.

"Oh!" Harry gasped as Draco suddenly changed the angle of his hips so that he his Harry's sweet spot every time. Harry felt his orgasm approaching rapidly, and he started to push back against Draco's thrusts, trying to get more friction, more everything.

Then Draco's arm slipped from his waist and started to swiftly pump Harry's ignored erection.

The reaction was instantaneous. Harry's back arched as he came, pleasure blinding and deafening him. His cry was muffled by Draco's hand, which remained in place. Through his delirium, he felt Draco bite down on his shoulder as the blonde climaxed at the same time.

Boneless and spent, they fell onto the floor.

Harry didn't even care when Draco turned them on their sides and slipped an arm around Harry's waist.

* * *

I can't shake the feeling that I'm crazy for writing this. O.O

Oh, well! XD It's fun, and I have ideas for more chapters and an ending and a sequel, so I'm not stopping anytime soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, hello, hello! I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, my darlings, but I had a terrible case of the writer's (block) flu. No worries, I'm all better now, and am more than happy to supply you all with the next chapter.**

**Unfortunately, this one is slightly lacking in the horizontal tango(although it's three times as long as the last chapter). But it was time Harry faced the facts. Which brings me to another, slightly embarrassing point; I neglected to decide which book this is taking place in. :P I'm saying book number six, with a few alterations:**

** 1. Sirius obviously isn't dead **

**2. Draco does not have the dark mark **

**3. Draco's father is not in Azkaban. **

**Questions? Concerns? Vicious attacks on my planning? *Cowers on the floor* "Not the face!"**

**Disclaimer: So I'm sitting on the curb, plotting to take over the rights to Harry Potter, when I look up and see Daniel Radcliff. I jumped up and said to him, "Hey there, Dan- I want you refuse to act in the movies until J.K. Rowling gives me the rights and lets me get rich off of a Harry/Draco fanfic. Sound good?" And he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, no, not another one of you fools! I've already dealt with this twice. Where's my bodyguard?" And that's how I got chased up a tree by a big, scary man named Timmy. FML.**

**Warning: Slash! If you don't like it, don't read it. If you read it anyway and post mean comments, I will come over to your house in my flying car and rescue Harry from you, 'cause you'd have to be a Dursley to be _that_ stupid.**

* * *

Boneless and spent, they fell onto the floor.

Harry didn't even care when Draco turned them on their sides and slipped an arm around Harry's waist.

* * *

Harry woke up cold.

Partially cold, at least- something warm was wrapped around his waist, trailing around to his back. Legs twined with his own from behind, and he could feel a warm chest and abdomen pressing against his back. But who…?

Harry's eyes fluttered open as he snapped back into reality. It was the plant, the Devil's Snare, it had trapped them and made them… _do things_. Unspeakable things, himself and Draco _Malfoy_. Yet somehow, he wasn't running away. Maybe it was that he'd been dreaming about it happening for more than a month, or that he had been noticing more and more of his opponent's body in the Quidditch locker rooms.

As if roused by Harry's inner musings, Draco's head lifted and his neck found the still-tender bite marks on Harry's shoulder. Inadvertently, Harry pressed back against him, feeling the arm around his waist tighten.

"Mm, morning, Potter."

"…Malfoy."

"Shouldn't you have run off by now? The weasel will be wondering."

Oh, God.

Harry's eyes snapped open as he realized what all of this meant. What would Ron and Hermione say?

He scrambled to his feet, looking around desperately for his wand in the dim light from the crack under the door. On the floor, Draco propped himself up on one elbow.

"Potter, that wasn't a suggestion. It was a comment."

"Look, Dra- Malfoy, this was a big, _big _mistake. The Devil's Snare was controlling us. It didn't mean-"

Draco was on his feet in a flash, pushing Harry against the door. Harry tried to ignore the immediate reaction from his lower regions, which was quickly foiled as Draco pressed his body flush against Harry's. "Don't pull that shit. We both know it isn't true."

"But it is-"

"No. I'll tell you what I think; I think you liked being tied up. You liked not having a choice. You wanted this as badly as I did, _needed _it, but this way, if anyone finds out, you blame the bloody plant. If anyone finds out, you'll say you weren't in control." The pressure vanished, and Harry let out a breath of shaky relief. Draco tossed something at him, and Harry heard his wand clatter on the floor at his feet.

"Get dressed. It's getting late, and we have class." There was a long pause as the two of them cleaned and put on their clothes. All Harry had was his robe and pajama bottoms; his underwear was nowhere to be found. "One more thing, Potter," Draco called as Harry prepared to leave. "I don't think this was the last time."

Harry walked out without a backwards glance.

He didn't think so, either.

"Good God, Harry, what's happened to you?" Ron exclaimed worriedly as Harry made his way gingerly through the portrait hole (he was a lot more sore than he had originally noticed).

"I'm okay, Ron. Fell down a flight of stairs, is all," was the excuse he had devised on his way down.

"Well, I'll save you some toast at breakfast, mate. Reckon the eggs' will be cold by the time you're down, though." With a last worried glance, Ron left the common room.

Harry went upstairs and stared at the clock in a sleep-deprived disorientation before deciding that there was no way in hell he was going to make it to breakfast, much less squeeze in the hot bath he so desperately desired. He got dressed, and put his potions book in his bag before he left the dormitories and went straight to the dungeons.

He was already halfway there when he realized his invisibility cloak was still on the third floor.

Fumbling for his pocket watch, Harry cursed loudly. He didn't have enough time to get to Potions in time if he went back now, but he _really _didn't want Draco to have it (almost as much as he didn't want to _see _Draco, period).

Swallowing his pride– that cloak was worth more than five points Snape would take from Gryffindor –he about-faced and marched back towards the third floor.

Draco watched from behind one of the stone pillars in the hall as Harry trotted up the stairs and made a beeline for the room with the Devil's Snare. His pace stuttered to a halt right before he reached the door, but he visibly squared his shoulders and went in.

Several moments later, Harry reemerged. The golden boy's face was frustrated and slightly ashen as he made for the stairs.

Draco chuckled a little, and rubbed the cool, light fabric between his fingers, watching as they shimmered in and out of sight. "I'll see you in potions, Potter."

"_Mr. _Potter," Snape called, sarcasm dripping from his words. "If you'll be so kind as to vanish your miserable excuse for a potion before the class suffocates on its fumes, I am sure we will all be in your debt."

Harry looked in confusion into his cauldron, which contained a violently orange sludge that was growing before his eyes. Sure, Snape. Blame him instead of Neville. "_Evanesco_," He muttered, pointing his wand at the glop. It disappeared with a whooshing sound.

A soft laugh sounded from behind him, and Harry whipped around to glare at Draco. The blonde had gotten in ten minutes after Harry himself had. Somehow he looked impeccable, save for the light purple shadows beneath his eyes, and to Harry's disbelief, he only lost Slytherin one lousy point, whereas Harry himself had lost ten.

Stupid, prejudiced Snape.

"What did you just say to me, Potter?"

Harry froze. _Now _he was awake. "P-professor?"

"I believe I just heard you call me stupid and prejudiced."

_I thought that was in my head! _Harry thought in horror. Snape's imposing form was looming over Harry, his greasy eyebrows were drawn dangerously low over his beady black eyes. "Detention, Potter. Tonight. I hope you don't have plans."

Ron and Hermione sent him agonized looks; tonight was when they were supposed to contact Sirius via the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

Harry ducked his head, anger making his fists clench. "Yes, professor."

The instant class ended, Harry stormed out of the potions room, leaving Ron and Hermione calling after him.

"Harry! Harry, please, wait!"

"Hold up, mate," Ron huffed as he caught up. "What happened in there? What did you say?"

Hermione hurried into place beside Ron. "Harry, why were you so late- Oh, goodness, what happened to your neck?"

"My-?"

"There's a bruise or something…" Hermione pointed out with concern in her eyes.

"Fell down a flight of stairs 'cause of Peeves," Harry repeated the lie he'd fed Ron.

Hermione frowned. "Oh. I see."

Harry's mild panic that Hermione might have somehow figured out where he really was or what he was really doing was interrupted by Ron's questioning. "Harry, what _happened_?"

"I, er, was thinking aloud by accident."

Ron's eyebrows disappeared under his red hair. "And said…?"

Harry's shoulders shrugged slightly as he confessed, "That he was stupid and prejudiced."

Ron laughed out loud before trying to stifle the guffaws, and Hermione looked scandalized at the thought of uttering such a thing to a professor. "Harry, that-"

"Is bloody brilliant!" Ron cut in. "Wish I'd heard you, mate!"

"Yeah, well, I wish it had been you rather than Snape," Harry grumbled, receding back into his former bad mood. "Now you two will have to tell… _Snuffles_… that I got a lousy detention.

"Chin up, Harry! We'll explain it was an accident, and we'll tell you everything he says."

Just as Harry was about to respond, he heard a voice that made his hands cold and his trousers tighten in the front.

"Walking a little stiffly, there, Potter? Have a run-in with a villainous plant or something?"


	7. Chapter 7

Whooo! This baby is LONG! This is a fun chapter for me, because I've been planning _next_ chapter for ages, without any way to involve it in the plot. XD

Warning: This involves explicit guy/guy sex. Period.

Disclaimer: It's too early in the morning for me to think of any snappy disclaimers. J.K. Rowling owns it, I don't.

* * *

"Chin up, Harry! We'll explain it was an accident, and we'll tell you everything he says."

Just as Harry was about to respond, he heard a voice that made his hands cold and his trousers tighten in the front.

"Walking a little stiffly, there, Potter? Have a run-in with a villainous plant or something?"

* * *

Harry turned, and looked D- _Malfoy_ -in the eye. "Piss off, Malfoy," He sneered as best he could while Draco smirked at him. It was definitely his usual smirk, with one eyebrow drawn higher than the other and his eyes narrowed above the quirked, vicious mouth, but at the same time it was different. Maybe his lips were a tiny bit more pursed than usual, or his eyes were gleaming with something other than malice. Whatever it was, Harry's stomach flipped.

"Ooh, touchy," Draco made the word into something filthy, at least to Harry. "Didn't mean to hurt your pretty little… _feelings_."

Harry felt himself go scarlet. Draco's smirk deepened, and he brushed past Harry into Charms.

"What the bloody hell is he on about?" Ron scoffed, bringing Harry's attention elsewhere.

"No idea," Harry took a deep breath. "Probably drunk on some potion or something."

Together, with Harry walking even more stiffly, Hogwarts' favorite trio entered their next classroom.

* * *

"_Fugeis Protinus!_"** Harry commanded, pointing his wand at the throwing dart that rested in his palm. It wobbled into the air, let out what seemed to be a cough, and flopped back into his hand.

Hermione repeated the spell, and her dart, colored with red and gold, zipped out of her fingers and wedged itself into the center of the dartboard that they were using as practice.

"Show off," Ron grumbled, looking at his own dart in annoyance.

"Come on, boys, keep trying," Professor Flitwick encouraged them, clapping his hands to emphasize his point.

"_Fugeis Protinus!_" Harry ordered. The dart zoomed from his palm and made it about halfway before it appeared to lose confidence and dropped like a stone.

"Better," Flitwick mumbled, quickly hurrying to Seamus's table, where his dart had burst into flames.

"Blast!" Ron swore as his dart, more enthusiastic than Harry's, shot straight past their dartboard and embedded itself in Lavender Brown's desk. Ron hurried over to try to quiet the squalling girl and retrieve his dart. As Harry fetched his own dart, Hermione snorted and shook her head, eyes averted.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, noting the rising color in her cheeks. "Hermione, what's on your mind?"

"Them," She seethed, gesturing angrily. "The _Fugeis Protinus _charm can be affected if something you desire is in the room- guess who Ron desires?"

Glancing over at Ron (who was a violent shade of maroon) and Lavender, a thought struck Harry. With as much tact as he could conjure up, he turned sideways, and held his dart behind him, towards where the Slytherins were practicing the charm. "_Fugeis Protinus!_" he whispered, and, faster than he could see, the needle-sharp end buried itself in the desk Draco Malfoy sat behind.

"_Accio!_" Harry hissed, summoning the dart back to his waiting hand. Ron rejoined them, distracting Hermione as she cast the spell and making her dart about-face and bury itself in the toe of his shoe.

He bellowed in pain, grabbing for his appendage and jumping up and down in place. As Hermione and Lavender crowded him and professor Flitwick hustled over, all eyes were on them except for two pairs. One belonged to Harry, and were staring at Draco Malfoy. The others belonged to Draco, and were watching- no, _winking at _Harry Potter.

Draco lifted his non-wand hand, green dart loosely clasped, and whispered a few words. The dart zoomed towards Harry, who barely moved out of the way as the miniature rocket planted itself firmly in the desk where his hand had been.

All eyes on Ron, no one noticed as Draco moved close, plucked the dart from the wood and blew Harry a light, devilish kiss.

* * *

Harry made his way to the dungeons slowly. He wasn't in a hurry to meet Snape, and he was even less interested in running into Draco down here, where the Slytherins ruled. Even worse, he still didn't have his father's cloak. It wasn't as if he could go up to Draco and ask him for it back.

The stairway he was descending to was black as pitch, or Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. The lanterns must have gone out, or been doused with water by Peeves.

He went slowly, leaving his wand in hand.

Something creaked below him. "_Lumos_," Harry hissed, blinking at the sudden light as he tried to see who had made the noise.

Nothing. Just as he was about to keep going, something hard caught each of his shoulders and shoved him against the wall, paying no mind to the banister that dug into Harry's lower back.

Something knocked his wand away, and a hand smothered the yell that was rising in his throat. Harry struggled, then gasped against the person's hand as a leg forced its way between Harry's knees and to his cock, which had remained half-hard throughout most of the day despite all the vile things he had played in his mind.

Once it had nestled in Harry's groin, the leg began to rub back and forth across his growing erection, eliciting a needy moan from Harry's throat.

"Miss me, Potter?"

Harry didn't even care that it was Draco talking; he began to rut almost unconsciously against Draco's thigh. His arms, which had gone limp, went around his enemy's cloaked back to pull him closer. The hand which wasn't over Harry's mouth slipped over his side and began to run over the curve of Harry's ass.

"Mm-," Harry groaned into Draco's palm.

"Potter? Potter, you had better be on your way right this second, or else tonight won't be your only detention!"

Harry and Draco froze at Snape's voice, and Draco disentangled himself from Harry and vanished.

"H-here, professor!" Harry managed, fumbling for his wand on the ground and then almost running down the stairs.

Professor Snape glared at him, clearly wishing that he could have given Harry detentions through the end of his seventh year. "Good. You will be cleaning the potions room, _Mr_. Potter. Floors, walls, desks, chairs, you're not to leave until everything shines. And no magic!"

Harry sighed inwardly at the much-expected twist. It was not the horror it would have been to most of the students, seeing as he actually cleaned on a daily basis during the summer. "Do I have any materials?"

Snape opened the door to the potions room wider, and Harry saw he was stuck with a janitor's mop and bucket, two muddy-looking washcloths, and a spray bottle of a bright orange liquid. Harry made a move to enter, only to be blocked by Snape's arm.

"Not so fast, Potter. Seeing as there is a meeting tonight in Dumbledore's office, I'm not going to be late just because you were more insolent than usual. Your wand, Mr. Potter."

Harry stared at him, mouth agape. Snape, taking his wand? Numbly, he handed it over and watched as Snape took it inside, put inside a wooden box the size of a microwave, and tapped it once with his own wand. Satisfied, he turned back to Harry.

"That box will alert me if any attempt to open it is made. I'm also locking you in, Potter." Harry was shuffled into the room.

"But professor, if the box alerts you when I touch it, how can I-"

_Slam!_

"-clean it?"

* * *

Harry sighed, looking around at all the grease and mildew that seemed to cover everything. He had always wrinkled his nose at it, but now that he had to _clean _it, things were looking grim.

He established a rhythm, first spraying the walls with the orange liquid, which bubbled and fizzed, and then scrubbing them with the washcloth. It took him hours to do every single one. When he had finished the last corner, he stood back and looked around. "Huh. I never knew this room was supposed to be painted blue."

Shrugging, he went to fetch the mop and bucket. He had made little progress along the first row of desks when he heard a voice that made him jump and drop the mop.

"You know, you really ought to do the desks before the floors, otherwise you'll track filth all over them."

Whirling around, Harry saw no one. "Malfoy, where are you? That door was locked," He shouted.

"To you, maybe. All I had to use was _alohomora_."

The voice echoed slightly in the room, source still unknown.

"Dammit, Malfoy, give me back my cloak!" Harry demanded, then yelped as he was pushed against the desk he stood in front of. Draco Malfoy shimmered into view in front of him, dropping the cloak on Snape's desk as he grinned.

"You never answered me before, Potter. Did you miss me?"

* * *

**_Fugeis Protinus- _a variation on the Latin translation of "Fly Straight"


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh my God, I love this chapter SO MUCH! I've been working on it for ages, obviously, so I absolutely adore it, but at the same time that means it took forever for me to post. :'( I'm sorry, guys! Thank you for being patient with me.**

**Disclaimer: Short and sweet: not mine. No profit. Dammit.**

**Warning: SEX! GUYS! **

**Love,**

**Jester.**

* * *

_"Dammit, Malfoy, give me back my cloak!" Harry demanded, then yelped as he was pushed against the desk he stood in front of. Draco Malfoy shimmered into view in front of him, dropping the cloak on Snape's desk as he grinned._

_"You never answered me before, Potter. Did you miss me?"_

Harry swallowed and tried to move away. "Listen, Malfoy, I read something about that plant. It's been calling us back, making us do this."

"Are you sure? That was a pretty distinctive honing signal last night but right now… I don't think the plant's doing anything at all, Potter." Draco clapped his hands over Harry's, stopping any progress the brunette had been making.

Just the feel of Draco's body pressing against his gave Harry shivers and butterflies, and he tried to breath deeply. "Malfoy, we- we can't not here, Snape will be back any minute," His eyes slid shut as Draco ran his lips along Harry's jaw.

"I'm not going to say please," Draco whispered, moving one of his hands to Harry's lower back to press him closer and sliding his leg forward to part Harry's. His teeth glided over Harry's ear

Suddenly, Harry yanked Draco's head away, only to reposition it so that he could kiss him. Draco chuckled deep in the back of his throat before joining the battle for dominance. His leg slid back and forth, mimicking his actions in the stairwell, and Harry shifted closer, losing all his hesitation as he felt the much-needed friction. Draco licked his lower lip, and Harry opened his mouth wider with a soft groan.

One of Draco's hands slid beneath his shirt, tracing his spine once before moving to the front of Harry's body to pinch and toy with his nipples. Likewise, Harry began to fumble with the front of Draco's robes, hands shaking from the stimulation.

Draco abruptly pushed Harry back, bending him over so his back was flat on the desk. Harry was breathing raggedly, seeing the lust in Draco's eyes. The Slytherin's hands made their way over Harry's chest, undoing the buttons on his shirt and then moving on to his pants. "Potter, I am going to fuck you so hard, you'll be crawling to your classes," He told him with a smirk, pulling Harry's pants off and dropping them on the floor.

Harry's breath caught at the declaration and he shifted, biting his lip, as one of Draco's hands dipped between his legs and pressed a fingertip to Harry's entrance. The blonde's other hand was busy undoing his own pants.

Feeling more and more desperate, Harry tried to push against Draco, whimpering as the first finger slid inside, slick and warm.

Draco grabbed Harry's calf, pulling his leg over the blonde's shoulder. Adding and twisting a second finger, he met Harry's half-lidded gaze with a lazy, wanting smirk. "You've never looked better, Potter."

Harry's cutting response was drowned out by his own moan as Draco scissored his fingers and brushed against Harry's prostate. "H-uhn," He gasped, bucking into the touch. Taking advantage of Harry's distraction, Draco slipped in another finger and grinned as Harry's gaze latched onto him. "S-stop teasing me, Malfoy, j-_ah _-just do it!"

Harry watched as Draco took a deep breath, positioning himself at Harry's entrance. Opening his mouth to snap at him to hurry the fuck up, Harry let out a sharp cry as Draco slammed into him, merciless, and used his grip on Harry's hips to thrust in fast and hard. Harry's hands scrabbled for purchase on the table as each thrust gave him what he'd been longing for all day. The leg that wasn't over Draco's shoulder slid around the blonde's waist, trying to pull them closer as both of them moved as one, synchronized being.

Draco's fingers dug into the bruises on Harry's hipbones, but the pain was locked away somewhere in the back of Harry's mind as the pleasure had free reign. They had only just begun, but they had been waiting all day, and neither of them would last.

"God, Potter," One of Draco's hands slid underneath him, pulling him up. Harry's arms trapped them together more tightly than Devil's Snare as their lips collided hungrily. Draco returned his hand to Harry's ass, using the leverage to pound deeper.

"Draay… Ah!" Harry moaned into Draco's heated kiss. The thrusts had started to brush his prostate as every stroke, sending wave after wave of pleasure through him and bringing him close to the edge. He tried to reach for his own erection but Draco pushed his hand away. The Slytherin swallowed Harry's shout as he began to pump Harry's cock, never slowing the pace.

Harry came with a muffled scream. His mind fragmented as the pleasure wracked his entire body, drawn out by the continuing thrusts. Raking his nails over Draco's shoulders he felt the blonde shudder, and something hot pooled inside him.

Shivering slightly, Harry opened his mouth to Draco's gentle, probing tongue as he was laid down on the desk with Draco still on top of him. Harry's head felt fuzzy, and he sighed as Draco stroked one of his trembling sides.

Draco broke the kiss, staying so close that their breaths mingled. Harry mumbled, "We need to get up, you can't-can't be here, and I have to clean…"

Opening his eyes, Harry saw Draco's face, close-up. Without thinking, he pressed their lips together again, gently taking Draco's lower lip between his teeth. Draco responded with equal tenderness, molding his lips carefully to Harry's.

Draco pulled away, much to Harry's dismay, and sent the Gryffindor a pained look. "You're right, H- Potter. Professor Snape will be coming soon."

He got up slowly, both of them breathing in sharply as he pulled out. Voice and hand shaking, Draco waved his wand and said, "_Purgate Totalus_,"*

Harry felt better or, at least, cleaner, as he sat up and looked around in surprise. The entire room shone.

"You should get dressed," he murmured, averting his eyes and blushing. It was the plant, the plant, he chanted inwardly, but at the same time he wasn't sure. What Draco had said at the beginning of their encounter rang of truth; this was different than the feelings that the plant had caused.

Draco placed a hand on Harry's cheek, interrupting his thoughts, and kissed him lightly. Harry sighed quietly, raising one hand to the back of Draco's neck and letting it rest there as something welled up in his chest. For some reason, this kiss was… sweeter.

There was a faint sound from the hallway, which was rapidly getting louder. Harry broke away, wide-eyed. "It's Snape!" He gasped, grabbing his pants from the floor and struggling into them. Beside him, Draco was going through a similar panic-attack. "Oh, no, oh, no," He chanted under his breath as he struggled to button up his shirt.

"Hurry, under the cloak," Harry hissed, leaving his shirt unbuttoned under his heavy robes. Draco, half-dressed, snagged his clothes with one hand and threw the cloak over himself just as the door flew open with a bang. Harry sat quickly in a chair, trying to mask his wince at the burst of pain. Draco had not been gentle.

"Potter-" Snape broke off, looking around the room in undisguised shock. He quickly relapsed into his usual sullen glare. "You have done adequately." Striding to his desk, the greasy professor tapped the wooden box twice with his wand, and it opened with a snap. "Here is your wand, not get out," he snapped.

Harry hurried over, trying to not limp, and accepted his wand with a small smile. It was such a relief to have it again.

"I said get out," Snape said coolly, gesturing to the open door. Harry obliged happily, leaving as quickly as he could without running.

As he climbed the staircase, wincing at every step, he suddenly realized something.

Draco still had his cloak.

* * *

*Purgate being Latin for "clean up", and Totalus (hopefully meaning "totally" or "Everything" from the books.

More soon, I promise! 3


	9. Chapter 9

**Whoo! Longest chapter ever! Hope everyone likes it, 'cause it took forever. More specifically, _I_ took forever... sorry about that. And also for the slightly fail beginning. It get's better, no worries! **

**Disclaimer: I have yet to trick J.K Rowling into giving me the rights. The other day I cornered her in a KFC and demanded she sign them over to me, but she told her bodyguard to arrest me for stalking. That's how I ended up hiding behind the manager of the KFC while J.K Rowling made her escape. But no worries, I will have them. You'll see. **

**Warning: Sex. Two guys. If it doesn't float your boat, scram.**

**(^.^) (That's a kitty. Pay no attention. It's just happy because I have the next chapter.)**

**P.S. Actuially, no P.S. I just really, really wanted to break 2,000 words in a single chapter. :) Sorry! You can read now.**

* * *

_"I said get out," Snape said coolly, gesturing to the open door. Harry obliged happily, leaving as quickly as he could without running._

_As he climbed the staircase, wincing at every step, he suddenly realized something._

_ Draco still had his cloak._

* * *

Harry got up early, wiping his sleep-crusted eyes as he shuffled to the baths. Every step made his backside hurt, and for some reason he remembered Dudley's muggle rules for working out: if you work out for the first time one day, try to exercise the same way the day after so you won't be as sore. Did that mean he would be sorer now if he hadn't had sex with Draco in detention?

It didn't seem possible.

But… did that mean that if they did it again, he wouldn't be as sore?

_Stop it!_ He commanded himself, trying to keep himself from thinking about it. Just the idea of it made him shiver slightly.

He entered the baths, reluctantly leaving the warmth of his robe behind in a heap as he turned on a showerhead and waited for the water to heat up. "Damn old piping," he grumbled to himself. He would have preferred the prefect's bathroom, but there was the chance that he would run into Draco there.

"Stop thinking about it," he grumbled to himself. "Think about… pipes. Yeah. Pipes. Second year. Basilisk. Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle. Dangerous. Adventures. Challenges. Devil's Snare. Drac- dammit!" He shouted, throwing himself under the falling water, hoping that the cold would help distract him.

_At this rate,_ he thought gloomily, _Ron and Hermione will have figured it out by breakfast. _

The shower quickly warmed up, and Harry shampooed generously, squinting as the suds slid too close to his eyes. He scrubbed himself furiously. He rinsed. Repeated. Did everything in his power to keep his mind off of Draco.

He turned off the water, flinching at the gusts of frigid air that bombarded him now that he wasn't protected by the sheet of running water. As he picked up his towel, something fluttered to the stone floor. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Harry bent and retrieved the scrap of parchment.

_Potter,_

_If we don't face this eventually, we'll never resolve it. Unless, of course, that's what you want and you've only been pretending to be horrified this entire time (I wouldn't put it past you). After classes, before dinner. I'm sure you know where._

_-DM_

_P.S. I'm flattered that you have to try so hard not to think of me._

Harry looked wildly around the baths, saw no one, and dressed himself quickly. Merlin knows how the Slytherin got in, but he was going to get the hell out of there before he came back- or worse, maybe he was still there!

Would it be so bad? The part of him that wanted a relationship begged him. He wants to talk, figure it out… would it be so bad?

Thinking back to the sex, Harry shivered. Maybe not _so_ bad, but pretty bad all the same. And dangerously good, too.

Hustling out of the baths, Harry mentally shook himself. Don't worry until after class, he ordered himself. Then just try to avoid sheer, bloody panic.

* * *

Sitting in Transfiguration and taking notes seemed like the most abnormal thing in the world after everything that had been happening. Harry was so preoccupied with the events of the last few days that he could barely hold his quill. Somehow, the properties of the spell that turned a cantaloupe into a grapefruit didn't seem so important.

Especially because Draco Malfoy was sitting not ten feet away.

Unless the blonde was being a jerk, Harry hadn't acknowledged his presence in the past. Now he could hardly keep his eyes elsewhere.

Well… that was_ mostly _true. There had been a few days before the initial …_incident_ that he had caught himself staring at Draco. Then the dreams; terrible, wonderful dreams. Dreams that, until recently, couldn't possibly have been a reality.

Shivering slightly, Harry returned his attention to the notes, forcing himself to concentrate on the words that he was supposed to be copying. The air in the room seemed to be thickening, and Harry did his best to ignore the subtle arousal.

Then, as if some daft muggle had flipped a switch labeled "DO NOT FLIP!" the slow-burning heat went supernova. Harry bit back a gasp and glanced over toward the left half of the room.

Draco was staring back at him with wide, equally burning eyes. He looked as if he was going to leap across the desks and have his way with Harry right then and there.

Harry looked desperately at the hourglass. _Five more minutes_, he mouthed at Draco, who sent back a look that said, explicitly, _you've got to be kidding me_.

_Please!_ Harry responded. He bit his lip against a groan as the fire in his groin doubled, making him see stars. It was difficult to stop himself from grabbing Draco and dragging him out of class and into the third floor corridor.

The next few minutes were pure hell. The need was killing him, screaming at him to get the hell out of there. He shifted slightly in his seat, not even bothering to try to take any bloody notes. It felt like feathers were inside him, doing nothing to sate his desperation, only feeding it. He needed Draco _now_.

Just when he felt he would combust, McGonagall said, "Off to you're next class, now."

She probably said something about the homework, but Harry was long gone. He bolted through the corridors, ignoring Ron and Hermione's shouts behind him as he dashed to the third floor.

The dark corridor opened up to him, and he burst through the door without hesitation.

Inside, the tendrils of Devil's Snare were whipped into a frenzy, tentacles waving. They were better at ripping his robes off than he was, at the moment, only stopping when Draco burst in, already shedding his clothes.

Harry grabbed the Slytherin roughly, finding his mouth in the darkness while he tried to help with the removal of his clothes. Draco groaned, turning them around to push Harry against the door. "God," he panted between fevered kisses, kicking off the last of his uniform.

The lust was a palpable fog that surrounded them, egging them on, and they were too eager to comply. Their bodies pressed and slid together, almost but not quite relieving the tension. Harry whined as Draco's mouth vanished. Almost immediately there were fingers at his lips, insistently asking for entrance. Widening his mouth, the fingers slicked themselves with saliva.

"Get ready," Draco panted, removing the fingers. At Draco's nudge, he spread his legs a little wider to allow himself to be prepared.

"Hurry up," Harry demanded, supporting himself by slipping his arms around Draco's shoulders. Draco silenced him with a brutal clashing of lips and tongues, distracting from the fingers that had forced their way inside and were twisting and curling. Harry saw stars as they found and attacked the pleasure spot inside him. That coupled with Draco's other hand gripping and massaging his inner thigh, their chests pressed together…

"Do it, now," Harry broke away, gasping. Otherwise he wouldn't last, he added silently. Resealing their lips, Draco withdrew his fingers and picked Harry up.

He hung there for a moment, legs clamped tightly around Draco's waist, arms holding tightly to his neck and shoulders. They were going so fast, too fast, but there was still time.

Time enough to break the kiss and rest their foreheads together.

Time enough to reach down and take Draco's length, to guide it inside himself.

Time enough to hear their combined gasps at the feeling.

Because time slowed down when his eyes opened just enough to see Draco's, wide and wanting and willful and staring back at him with something more than lust deep within.

Then time restarted.

Harry shouted out at the long-awaited relief before Draco grabbed his hips and began to thrust hard and deep. Harry moved his hand slightly to push Draco's head forward and attached their lips.

Each thrust was perfection, a wave of ecstasy that satisfied the ache while still taking him into a higher level of wanting more. His nails dug into Draco's shoulder and he heard the Slytherin moan as their mouths opened wider. The blonde's hands were molding themselves into Harry's hips. At this rate, the bruises would never fade.

Harry wasn't sure he wanted them to.

The thrusts were becoming wild as they both got closer to release, the groans and gasps becoming more frequent. Just when Harry thought he couldn't take it any more, Draco slammed in deeper and harder than he had before, and he fell over the edge into the abyss. Draco pulled him closer as they rode out their orgasms together.

The pleasure was white hot, rolling through him as Draco lowered them to the ground. His breathing was heavy and he broke away from Draco's lips, pressing them to his neck instead as they stretched out on the floor. Harry's arm was still around Draco's neck, and Draco's arms had moved up to wrap around the Gryffindor's back.

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's shoulder, enough to rouse him. Harry pulled himself back slightly so his face hovered over Draco's. The light crept in softly from under the door, letting him see his enemy's face; angles, shadows, eyes with heavy lids that didn't quite hide the mystery emotion.

Harry leaned forward, softly molding their lips together. Despite their previous endeavors, this seemed more intimate than anything that had happened before. The gentility was undeniable, the sweetness unprecedented. It was a lover's kiss, not a kiss that they had had before.

He didn't break it- only pulled back so their breaths mingled and their lips weren't quite touching.

"Harry?" Draco whispered.

* * *

Obviously, to be continued.

I LOVE getting reviews. If you review, I will send you imaginary lolly-pops. You can even pick an imaginary flavor! Please? Pretty please, with lollies on top?


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay... I'll admit, this is not my best work. It's mostly serving the purpose of getting the story where I need it to go. (I refuse to use the word "filler").**

**To those of you who have asked me to let Harry top, I want you to know that I have a plan. ****An evil, awesome plan, and trust me, he will. It'll just take a while for me to get the circumstances right. (Ergo: (not) filler chapter)**

**Disclaimer: So I was drowning my sorrows at not being able to get the Harry Potter rights from J.K Rowling, and this guy came up to me. He says, "I can get you the rights by eight o'clock if you give me two grand." I gave it to him. It is now eight-fifteen the next day. Don't let this fool you- I WILL get the rights.**

**Warning: If you're at this chapter without reading the first ones, then a) you're ridiculous, go back and read them in order you dummy, and b) This has mature sexual content involving two men. You no like? Walk away, sweetie. You don't know what you're missing.**

* * *

_Harry leaned forward, softly molding their lips together. Despite their previous endeavors, this seemed more intimate than anything that had happened before. The gentility was undeniable, the sweetness unprecedented. It was a lover's kiss, not a kiss that they had had before._

_He didn't break it- only pulled back so their breaths mingled and their lips weren't quite touching._

_"Harry?" Draco whispered._

* * *

Harry didn't move, even though his mind seemed to clear slightly. "Y-you called me Harry," he murmured back. Beneath him, Draco's breathing stopped.

"It's your name," he breathed back, embarrassment making his cheeks darken slightly.

Harry leaned forward to press their lips lightly. Draco opened his mouth slightly, trying to deepen the kiss, but Harry pulled away again. He brought up the arm that wasn't around Draco's neck and placed his hand gently on Draco's cheek. The Slytherin turned his head slightly, into the touch. "I suppose I should call you Draco."

There was a long beat of silence. Harry's mind raced- had he been mistaken? What if Draco mocked him? What if he was waiting for this, all along, just waiting so he could rip out Harry's heart-

Draco lifted his head and closed the distance between them, tightening his arms around Harry's torso as he kissed him. Harry closed his eyes, feeling everything that was Draco. His hands, lips, face were all that Harry needed in those long, beautiful seconds.

Even though it was hard and fast, the kiss had a soft edging where mindless lust used to be. Careful fragility echoed where need had been before.

Resting their foreheads together, Harry breathed deeply, compensating for the brief moments without air. Draco's arms were wrapped around him tightly, and he realized how safe he felt. Warm and safe…

Nestling his head on Draco's shoulder, Harry drifted off to the sound of Draco breathing, vanishing into a world of dreams he never seemed to be able to remember.

Waking up felt like gauzy blankets of sleep were being pulled away, one at a time. Harry became aware that the backs of his legs were cold, as was his back, except for the places where arms had wrapped around him and held him securely.

He opened his eyes slowly, thinking about what had happened. "D-Draco?" he whispered against the Slytherin's neck. Beneath him, Draco stirred, turning his head and lowering his chin so he could meet Harry's gaze. The crack under the door remained their only light source, but Harry could still see Draco's face.

"Harry."

Harry caught his breath; his name, coming from Draco, sounded… right. Better than 'Potter'. "I-I guess… We won't be meeting each other before dinner."

Draco laughed a little. "I guess not."

"What were you going to do when we met?"

"Talk about this, mostly. Although, most of our encounters don't include much talking, so… who knows?" There was a slight pause as they both remembered the overpowering need in the middle of McGonagall's class. "I looked up Devil's Snare in the library," he went on, "And it didn't say anything about… this."

Harry found himself watching Draco's mouth form the words, and mentally shook himself. "I found a book of theories," He began hesitantly. The book currently was stashed under his mattress, shoved there in a fit of denial. "It's in the Gryffindor dorms."

"…and this book says… what, exactly?"

"It said that there might be a type of Devil's Snare that can…" Despite all that had happened, Harry felt himself blush.

"Can what?"

"Sense, um, attraction. Can sense physical attraction." Harry waited for Draco's response with a cold feeling in his chest. He waited for Draco to push him off and away, to sneer and scoff and say something a Malfoy would say.

Draco was silent for a long time before whispering, "Mutual attraction?"

Harry was surprised to say the least, and a little pleased; he'd been expecting immediate mocking. "It didn't say. But the plant… the book said that the plant can call us back."

Draco's head lifted a little, eyes probably finding and staring at the vine-choked trap door. "So… that's all this was?"

"Not for me," Harry muttered with almost no audibility. He quickly realized, by Draco's suddenly tense shoulders, that Draco had heard the barely-spoken words.

"Harry… I've had dreams. About you." Draco wasn't breathing.

"What kind of… dreams?"

Draco raised one eyebrow in an expression that clearly said, _Seriously? _

"Oh. Right."

Draco's eyes were a little sad. "I know, you aren't… well, you don't feel that way about…"

Harry reached one hand up to Draco's head and pushed it down until their lips met. Draco's breathing snagged somewhere in his throat, and after a moment his hands began to slide up and down Harry's sides, from hip to waist and back. It even tasted sweet.

One of Draco's hands tightened its grip slightly on Harry's hipbone, and Harry broke the kiss with a pained gasp.

Before he could protest, Draco was pulling back and moving Harry to one side, closer to the light from the door, and inspecting his hips. Harry shifted in place, embarrassed at the scrutiny. The bruises stood out prominently on each hip, purple, curved marks that explained their escapades too clearly to anyone who noticed.

"D-did I…?"

"The past few nights… we've both been a little rough." Harry felt a pang as he remembered his nails. "Is your back okay?"

Draco frowned slightly, reaching behind him to test the skin. He couldn't quite hide his wince.

"Oh, God, hang on, let me get a better light…" Harry scrabbled on the floor for a moment before coming up with a wand. "_Lumos_… oh, darn it all, this one's yours…" Draco made a move to take it. "Oh, no you don't! Turn around and let me see your back."

Draco's eyes narrowed at the blatant command, but he did as he was told. "It's not as bad as it looks," he assured Harry when the Gryffindor gasped out loud.

Somehow, his short, stubby nails had left red marks that trailed from Draco's shoulders to his lower back. "Not as bad as it… but just _look _at yourself…"

Draco got to his feet suddenly, taking his wand away from Harry in the same moment. He busied himself with waving it slowly from side to side, scanning the floor and occasionally stopping to pick up an article of clothing. "What are you-" Harry was cut off as a ball of his robes hurtled towards him, disintegrating as it went.

"Get dressed. We need to talk when we're not covered in dust and come, and preferably when we have that book of yours to reference."

Harry looked from himself to his clothes. Both were covered in dust. He reached for his pants, not wanting to go wherever they were going in the nude. As he got to his feet, grimacing at the aches and pains, he asked, "Where are we going to go? The prefect's bathroom is out, and the regular baths aren't even an option."

"I know a place. It'll be fine."

Harry snuck a peek over at Draco, catching glimpses of his body in the wandlight. He blushed, busying himself with the fastenings on his pants.

"Ugh, these clothes are filthy." Draco complained, wadding up his uniform. Like Harry, he only wore pants. Harry kept his gaze firmly on the ground, adjusting his glasses. The light around him intensified, and he looked up to see that Draco had approached him with both his and Harry's wands. The combined light gave Draco's skin a luster that seemed to draw Harry's eyes against his will. He forced himself to accept his wand.

Then he stood there, feeling like an idiot under Draco's gaze. "I should run upstairs and get that book from my common room, so we can look at it."

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" Draco chuckled. "Just summon it."

"Oh. Right." Dammit, he even _sounded _like an idiot. "Well, unless we want people asking why we're half-naked and walking together, we should go under _my _cloak."

Draco gestured elaborately to the door, a very familiar piece of cloth in his hands. "Lead on."

* * *

"_Accio Unproven Theories: a Look at the Possibilities of Herbology!_" Harry called softly as he and Draco made their way to their destination. They were barely hidden under the invisibility cloak, crouching slightly and shuffling through the hallways so their ankles didn't show.

"That's the book?" Draco shook his head with a smirk, reminding Harry how close his face was to his. "What a mouthful. Come on, it's the next left."

What next left? Harry thought to himself. The hallway they had been walking through seemed never-ending, but at the same time… so familiar…

Then it hit him. "We're going to the Room of Requirement?" Harry hissed. "Practically everyone in our class knows where it is!"

"Yes, but what are the odds that they'd be able to be specific enough to get inside with us?" Draco smiled wickedly, wrapping one arm around Harry's neck and pulling him closer.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "I guess."

"Oh, you _guess? _Admit it, it's a brilliant idea. It's modifiable, which means it's everything you could possible need. Not to mention that no one would _ever _guess what's going on, ergo they won't be able to get inside when we are. What's wrong with that?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief, but before he could enlighten Draco on the wonders of humility, the book on Herbology came zooming towards them.

"Ah, just in time." Harry caught the flying book though the cloak, flashing their shins at a curious tapestry.

Draco faced the wall and furrowed his brow for a long minute. Before long, a tall wooden door, like the kind most of the baths had, appeared as if it had slid from within the stone wall. Draco slipped out from under the cloak and grasped the handle, sending a challenging look over his shoulder. "Are you coming or not, Harry?"

Hardly hesitating, Harry followed Draco through the enchanted door, feeling it close behind him with a thump of finality.

* * *

Ah, the room of Requirement. An old favorite of mine- the only catch is the "no food" rule mentioned in book seven, but I'll find a way around it...

If you guys have any requests for the room, please tell me! I have some (naughty) ideas, but I am always happy to have help!

(And again, I apologize for this not being the most exciting or well-written chapter. However, I shall make up for it with future awesomeness and some one-shots that you guys should be on the lookout for.) )


	11. Chapter 11

**Ah, we meet again. I hope everyone is being patient with me for taking so long, but exams are O-V-E-R and I will be writing more, I hope. **

**In other news, i started that one-shot I mentioned in the last chapter. Be on the lookout! :)**

**Disclaimer: IT WILL BE MINE! It just isn't at this present time... damn bodyguards...**

**Warning: Um. See previous chapters? Again, I can't tell minors not to read this because I was corrupted young, but if you haven't read slash before, go read someone's who is more experienced in writing it! XD Nothing TOO bad in this chapter. **

**Okay. **

**Here we go again. ) **

* * *

_Draco faced the wall and furrowed his brow for a long minute. Before long, a tall wooden door, like the kind most of the baths had, appeared as if it had slid from within the stone wall. Draco slipped out from under the cloak and grasped the handle, sending a challenging look over his shoulder. "Are you coming or not, Harry?"_

_Hardly hesitating, Harry followed Draco through the enchanted door, feeling it close behind him with a thump of finality._

* * *

Harry let the cloak slither to the floor, quickly followed by the Herbology book, as he stared around the huge room. It was shaped like a ballroom, but on the left were mirrors, sinks, and an in-ground bathtub (complete with a waterfall) the size of a swimming pool. On the right, however, was a large four-poster, canopy king bed complete with a small mountain of decorative pillows in royal purples and blues that complemented the duvet. There was still enough space in the middle for it to be perceived as a dance floor.

"What on Earth did you tell it to do?" Harry wondered aloud, allowing himself to be pulled to the left, towards the baths.

"Oh, a number of things. I actually thought it would be three separate rooms, but this works just as well." Draco sounded smug, and Harry flushed when he felt the blonde's gaze travel over him. They each only had pants on, all of their clothes being dusty and gross. "Unless you want to wear those trousers in the bath, Harry, you may need to remove them…"

Somehow, after all they had done together, Harry still had the dignity to blush. "Turn around first."

Draco shook his head, smiling, but obeyed anyway. Harry watched him for a moment before turning around and undoing the button on his pants. He watched dust shower to the floor for a moment, and suddenly a second pair of hands was pinching the hem and pulling them down and off. Harry tried to jerk away, a sound of surprise bursting from his lips, and tripped.

One arm wrapped around his waist as the other disengaged his legs from the garment. "You said you'd turn around," Harry hissed, struggling and flushing.

"No, actually, I didn't. You just assumed I would do as I'm told, for some reason…" Draco's breath was hot on Harry's ear, almost distracting him from the fact that he was being pulled backwards, towards the pool.

"I did _not_- and let go of me, I'm not a child-aaaaah!" Harry shouted as Draco picked him up and threw him into the water. He entered with a splash, and resurfaced spluttering and yelling. His glasses were lost in the water.

It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. "Y-you son of a bitch!" He snapped, crossing his arms and glaring harshly at Draco, who was doubled over, laughing at him.

"I apologize, your highness," He gasped out, obviously not contrite in the least. Taking a running start, Draco leapt into the water with a splash clearly intended to incense Harry further.

Harry clenched his jaw, waiting for the Slytherin resurface. Just before he would've worried, he felt teeth graze his thigh.

Had he not been partially submerged, Harry would definitely have jumped a foot in the air. He settled for a few inches.

The blonde popped up with a grin, shaking water out of his hair. "Relax, Potter."

"We don't have time to fool around!" Harry almost shouted, only realizing the double meanings of his words when Draco sniggered. "T-that's not how I meant it," He seethed, and then swallowed unintentionally when Draco stepped closer.

"Really?"

"No, we need to wash and go over that book, and talk about what to do when it happens again," Harry insisted, trying to ignore how Draco kept sliding closer.

"Okay. We'll wash." He breathed a sigh of relief, and started to back away, only to find himself trapped between the wall of the tub and Draco's grin.

"Quit it, I mean it," Harry warned, feeling hands creep up his sides. "Draco…"

Shaking his head, the Slytherin raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. But let me help you- completely innocent, I swear," He added Harry's disbelieving look.

Not breaking eye contact, he swam to the other side of the pool, near the waterfall, to retrieve some soap and shampoo. "C'mon, I don't bite."

"Liar," Harry muttered, remembering the marks. Even so, he half-swam, half-walked over to the waterfall.

"True, I suppose. I'll make it up to you," Draco promised off-handedly. As he talked, he opened one of the shampoo bottles and squirted a thick dollop into his hand and motioned for Harry to come closer. He obeyed, hesitantly, and stiffened in surprise as Draco moved close and, instead of doing something lewd, started massaging the sudsy, sweet-smelling shampoo into his hair. Harry tried to ignore the good feeling of the gentle massage. It wasn't sexual (for once) but instead just… pleasant.

Letting his eyes fall closed, Harry leaned into the touch and smiled with his mouth closed. His hair was definitely clean by then, but he didn't exactly _want _to move.

"Okay, tilt your head back a little," Draco told him quietly. Harry obliged, eyelids fluttering open when he felt the waterfall rinse the suds away. Draco was looking at him with lidded eyes, and somehow, Harry's order to keep Draco's eyes to himself got lodged in his throat.

Harry let his eyes shut again as Draco leaned in, slowly sliding their noses together before kissing him softly. His hands, already loose on the Gryffindor's neck and shoulder, tightened slightly and pulled him closer, out of the cascading water. The kiss turned into something deep and hot, but stayed dangerously slow. Harry put a hand on Draco's shoulder, slipping the other around Draco's waist.

Breaking away completely was a physical impossibility, but they lingered close enough to breathe the same air. "W-we need to talk about this, right?" Draco whispered, sounding pained. Harry opened his eyes a little, forcing himself to disengage.

"Yeah. Let's get out of the water," he pulled Draco to the edge, where a series of smooth rocks made the steps. It wasn't until he was dripping on the floor that he realized the problem. "There are no… towels," he finished shakily as Draco began to dry him off with a large, fluffy towel. First his back, then chest and stomach, before skimming over his butt (making him gasp). Harry looked down at Draco, kneeling in front of him and drying his legs. "You should really stop… that…" He struggled to breathe as Draco moved the towel slowly over his inner thighs, being far more thorough than necessary.

Harry groaned slightly, shifting in place. Then Draco looked up at him through narrowed, knowing eyes, and Harry snapped. Hauling him up, Harry dragged him towards the bed at the far side, ignoring the fact that they were both still dripping.

"What happened to talking?" Draco teased as they pushed aside the decorative pillows and pulled each other under the heavy covers.

"We suck at it," Harry informed him breathlessly, moving on top of the blonde. "Your tricks with that bloody towel didn't help, either."

"I'd say sorry," Draco whispered in Harry's ear, letting his hands wander down the brunette's back towards his ass. "But look where it got us."

Harry turned his head slightly to kiss Draco's jaw, breath catching as Draco squeezed his ass. "It was your plan all along. I know it."

"No… just a stroke of amazing luck." Draco murmured more seriously, looking into Harry's eyes so intensely that his breath stopped.

"How amazing?" Harry asked, heart racing.

In response, Draco flipped them over and kissed Harry hard, threading one hand in his hair and slipping the other under Harry to press them closer. In a brief pause, he responded, "You wouldn't believe it even if I tried to tell you."

"Then show me."

Almost an hour later, Harry was face-to-face with Draco. The Slytherin's hand was running through his hair, and Harry smiled a little, content. Their legs were twined together, and Harry's hands were resting on Draco's back, rubbing slightly to feel the smooth skin beneath his fingers.

"I wanted it," Harry whispered, staring into Draco's eyes; a dove-gray color that had always been hard and cold before now. "This, I mean. You and me."

Draco's hand slowed, and his mouth quirked up a bit at one side. "That's good to know." His smile widened at Harry's frown. "Well, I already told you I had a crush on you."

"No… you said you had dreams. There was no crush-talk." Harry tried, and failed, to pout. He had a warm feeling in his chest that was not entirely afterglow, and he couldn't seem to summon any irritation.

Draco 'hm-ed' in the back of his throat, moving closer to press their foreheads together. "I'm saying it now." His other hand, the one not stroking through the Gryffindor's hair, slid over his hip to the small of Harry's back. "And you?"

"I just said-"

Draco chuckled. "No, you said you _wanted _this. Merlin, we're so vague."

Not bothering to reply, Harry closed the distance and kissed him. Draco pulled him closer, hooking one of his knees around Harry's leg and shifting so they were even more tangled than before. Harry pressed himself against Draco, opening his mouth into the kiss and tightening his grip on him.

Just when their touches were entering the danger zone, there was a loud grumble. Breaking away, Harry looked at Draco's face, confused. "I skipped breakfast," the blushing blonde admitted, looking flustered as his stomach complained again.

"I see…"

"Oh, hush." Draco snapped, annoyed.

"Okay, okay, we'll get some food." But no matter how hard they concentrated on treacle tart or Shepard's pie, nothing appeared.

"Maybe the room can't summon- aack!"

Harry hadn't seen Draco look this alarmed since Moody had turned him into a ferret. "What is it?"

"Harry Potter!" Dobby cried, jumping up and down on the foot of their bed. "And Master Malfoy!"

* * *

Haha! Oh, God, I had so much fun with this! XD More soon, I promise!

And before I go, I want to thank EVERYONE who has reviewed, and I really appreciate the feedback. Please keep it up! I get giddy when I log into my email and see reviews waiting for me. :)

(And this is just because I was six words away from two thousand. XD)


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry I cheated you guys out of the sex! I'm planning on putting it in a flashback or a (wet) dream, so you'll get it. No worries! Sorry I'm so evil. XD**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Warning: Sex. Two guys. Consider yourself warned.**

**Instructions: Enjoy. )**

* * *

_Harry hadn't seen Draco look this alarmed since Moody had turned him into a ferret. "What is it?"_

_"Harry Potter!" Dobby cried, jumping up and down on the foot of their bed. "And Master Malfoy!"_

* * *

From the look on his face, Draco was at risk of swallowing his own tongue from shock. Harry was suddenly _very _aware that he was naked, in bed with his supposed rival, and looking very cozy.

"Why did you summon my old house-elf?" Draco hissed.

"I was thinking food- wait… your old house elf…" Of course! Lucius Malfoy's house elf was Draco's house elf, too. It made sense.

What didn't make sense was that he was bouncing up and down on the foot of the bed, wearing a stack of Hermione's hand-knitted hats and a pair of tea cozies while he chanted their names over and over again.

"Dobby, why are you here?" Harry interrupted the eager, slightly blurry elf (His glasses were still at the bottom of the pool).

"To bring you food, Harry Potter! Although, Dobby did not know what Harry Potter wanted, so he came to ask, and look- Harry Potter is friends with Master Malfoy!"

Harry and Draco looked at each other in awe of Dobby's ability to completely disregard their proximity and nudity.

"What would you like, sirs?"

Harry blinked twice before responding, "Um. Do you have grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup?"

"Of course, Harry Potter! Anything for you!" Turning to Draco, he asked, "And does Master Malfoy still like ham and cheese with mayonnaise with his soup?"

"Yes, please."

Dobby nodded, satisfied. "Dobby will be back very soon." With a snap of his fingers, he was gone, leaving Harry and Draco staring at the feet-shaped indentations in the duvet.

Harry broke the silence first. "What the hell just happened?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, the Room of Requirement obviously can't produce food by itself. It still must meet the users' demands, so it branched out, looking for other means of obtaining food. Why grilled cheese?"

Harry raised one eyebrow at the abrupt change in subject. "Because it's the one thing I can't cook for myself. It's impossible, I'm serious!" He insisted at Draco's laugh.

"I'm sure. We should probably get our wands, and the book while Dobby's away, though."

Nodding, Harry slipped out from under the covers, shivering at the abrupt lack of warmth, and hurried across the room. He snatched up his wand, summoning his glasses and the Herbology book before realizing something.

He turned around to make sure, and found his theory was correct. Draco was still lounging in the bed, examining Harry's naked frame with a lazy smile as the Gryffindor picked up his things.

"You lazy arse," Harry snapped, holding the book in front of himself as a shield.

Draco just kept smiling. "You should really pick up your cloak, don't you think? We wouldn't want to forget it."

"You bloody-"

"Ah, ah, ah, no time for that. Dobby will be back soon."

Harry seethed for a moment before remembering. Smugly, he raised his wand and said, "Accio cloak!" Harry waited a few moments, listening to Draco snicker, before stomping over to the stubborn heap of fabric and picking it up. He bent over as little as he could, but he still heard Draco's appreciative noise from across the room.

Face flaming, Harry strode back to the bed and dumped what he was holding on the bed. Quickly, he dove under the blankets to cover himself, staying far away from Draco.

"Oh, come on. You were so innocent, I couldn't resist watching."

"Bloody git," Harry muttered, pulling the covers over his head. Thus, he was caught unaware when Draco's hands slipped around his waist and pulled him into the Slytherin's lap. "H-hey, stop it-" he gasped as Draco's hand rubbed his ass, and his lips pressed to Harry's neck, just below his ear. "Draco, I mean it… oh…" Draco's hand ventured between Harry's cheeks, rubbing his entrance. It was still moist from the lubricant they had found in the bedside table, and from Draco's come. Harry's breathing was shaky, and he rocked unconsciously against Draco's hand.

_Crack!_

Draco swore against Harry's neck, and Harry scrambled off of Draco's lap at the sudden appearance of a house elf balancing two trays of food.

"Dobby has returned with food," Dobby sang merrily, somehow oblivious to the boy's flushed and mortified faces. Not to mention their problems further south.

"Th-thanks, Dobby," Harry said lamely, accepting his tray. On his right, Draco took his with a sour expression on his face and a nod of thanks.

"It is Dobby's pleasure to help Harry Potter and friend Master Malfoy!"

Harry and Draco exchanged a look. "Um, Dobby, you… um. Well you see…"

"Dobby, you probably shouldn't tell anyone that Harry and I are friends," Draco cut in. Dobby's already-wide eyes grew larger as he looked between them. Harry nodded when the elf looked to him for confirmation.

"Ah, yes. Dobby understands. Harry Potter and Master Malfoy-"

"You may call me Draco, Dobby," Draco supplied, and Harry looked at him in surprise. Draco was actually being… _nice _to Dobby.

"-Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are special friends, like Master Lucius Malfoy and Master Sirius Black were."

Harry and Draco simultaneously choked on their mouthfuls of soup, and began to cough. Harry's eyes watered as he replayed Dobby's words in his head. All he managed was, "_What?_"

"Dobby said, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy-"

"No, the part about Lucius and Sirius Black," Draco wheezed, holding a hand to hid mouth as if he were going to be ill.

"Well, after Master Black had graduated from school- they were several years apart, so Dobby only knows what happened after that –Master Black would visit several times a week, and Dobby would wait on them when they were in bed together. They said they were special, secret friends, and that Dobby should not tell anyone that Dobby had seen. Like Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are, is Dobby correct?"

"Um." Harry coughed, eyes streaming and face flaming. "What were they wearing?" Draco hiccupped beside him, turning to him in horror.

Dobby looked taken aback at the question. "Dobby saw nothing, Harry Potter."

"How long did this go on?" Draco choked out.

"For three years, about," Dobby giggled. "Dobby has not spoken of it since!"

Harry and Draco were shocked silent, each trying desperately to rid their mind of the horrible mental images that had formed.

"Thank you for the food, Dobby," Harry said at last. Dobby bowed low, smiled at them, and vanished.

Draco and Harry stared at each other for a long minute, trying to figure out something intelligent to say.

Finally, Draco said, "Well, shit."

"My feelings exactly."

"I never knew my dad screwed Black."

"Me eith- hey, Dobby never said anything about who topped! It was probably Sirius."

Draco stared at him. "Look, Dad told me about Black being your Godfather and a traitor and all that, so I guess you know him. But I know my dad, and there's no way he let himself be…" Draco faltered, obviously trying to get rid of the mental image.

"Yeah, I _do _know him. He'd never let your dad do that!"

Draco snorted, turning back to his soup. "Well, obviously you're wrong. He did- for three years, if Dobby knows what he's talking about."

"Well, let's find out!" Harry snapped, moving the tray off his knees and slipping out of the covers. He only paused for a moment, glancing back at Draco, before swallowing his pride, grabbing his wand and striding to the door.

"You do realize you're starkers, right?" Draco called. "I wouldn't want anyone else seeing you like that."

Gritting his teeth, Harry cracked the door open and stuck his wand out the opening. "_Accio Sirius's mirror!_" He muttered, and then waited. He tried not to shiver at the draft seeping through the open door.

Footsteps padded up to him, and Harry didn't turn as Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist from behind. "What are you doing?"

"You looked cold," Draco responded, pulling Harry closer.

Harry accepted the warmth, dropping his non-wand hand to cover one of Draco's. The blonde wove their wingers together, ignoring Harry's silence. "Are we seriously fighting about which one of our guardians topped before we were born?" He whispered, amusement lacing his tone.

Harry cracked a smile. "Maybe."

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "Just checking."

Then the mirror Sirius had given him came zooming around a corner, and Harry widened the gap in the door slightly to catch it. "Gotcha," He murmured to himself.

"Yeah, you got it. Now come back to bed."

Harry pursed his lips, letting himself be pulled back to the king-sized bed. "That sounds so… sordid," He laughed, feeling Draco chuckle behind him.

"It does, doesn't it? Now come on, eat before your soup cools down."

Draco clambered into bed, helping Harry up after him. Harry, for the most part, ignored the hands that lingered on his skin, only sending raised-eyebrow looks at Draco. He was answered silently, with a flick of ice-blonde hair and a dangerous grin.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped, making the soup slosh in its bowl. He was very glad he had pulled the covers over his lap, otherwise Sirius would have a very different view. Beside him, Draco nonchalantly sipped from his glass of milk.

"S-Sirius! Hi!"

"…hello."

"Um, I wanted to ask you something." Draco was sending him devilish looks. This was harder than he thought it would be.

"Yes?"

In the mirror, Sirius looked mildly confused. Harry was just beginning to build up the courage to ask him what was when Sirius asked, "Harry, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Draco snorted at Harry's blush, and Sirius' brow furrowed further. "Who was-"

"When you and Lucius Malfoy were having your affair, did he top or did you?" Harry blurted out. Draco burst out laughing beside him, and scrabbled for a pillow to muffle the sound.

Sirius looked mortified. "How do you-"

"Just answer!" Was Sirius… blushing?

"Well, Harry, you have to understand… he was older and more experienced, and it was very hard to tell him no… not to mention he was attractive… Who _is _that?"

Draco was positively cackling, not even trying to be quiet. Harry was sure he was blushing harder than Sirius. "Don't change the subject," he ordered.

"No, Harry, tell me what's going on! How did you know, why are you half-naked, and _who the bloody hell is that?_"

Harry paused, mouth open and heart pounding. "I'm going through a tunnel," He stated half-heartedly, and placed the mirror in the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

Draco was howling. "A _tunnel? _All you can think of is a bloody _tunnel?_"

"Shut it," Harry muttered, still blushing. It had seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time.

"Oh, God, the _look _on your _face!_ Not to mention I told you so…"

Harry picked up his abandoned spoon and flicked a spoonful of tomato soup at Draco's head.

Draco stared at him from under the drippy red glop with narrow eyes, and Harry suddenly felt less satisfied about the accomplishment.

He ran.

Draco chased him, a second tandem of feet that caught up just in time to tackle him into the pool.

_Not again_, he thought as his glasses slipped off and made themselves comfortable on the bottom of the pool. As he resurfaced, he found himself being unceremoniously dragged out and back across the dance floor to the bed.

Harry fully expected to be thrown down on the covers and fucked silly, but instead Draco sat on the edge and flung Harry over his knee.

"What the hell do you think you're-," Harry broke off with a shout, squirming too late as Draco spanked him soundly. Each slap met his backside with equal force, and though he struggled, Draco's free hand held him firmly in place.

Soon, Harry realized the true punishment. With each blow came a small spark of pleasure, which was quickly intensifying. He bit his lip, forcing himself not to cry out or (more likely) moan or beg.

The slaps were beginning to get softer, but the palm coming down on his sensitized flesh made him harder no matter how gentle the touch. And this was not gentle.

One blow hit just under the curve of his ass, and Harry couldn't keep in the entire moan. Draco hesitated for a moment, and Harry could practically _see _him smirking.

Then the slaps began again in little flurries, making Harry squirm for a very different reason. "Something you want, Harry?" Draco asked innocently.

"Dammit," Harry growled, but somehow it came out as more of a moan.

"I hope that was a 'please', otherwise we'll be here for _hours_…"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco to shove it, but just then his hand came down particularly hard, and a deep groan came out instead. "_Please_," He gasped.

That was all it took. He found himself facedown on the mattress, and heard Draco retrieving the lube from the bedside table.

It started with two fingers, making Harry arch his back and cry out. He didn't bother to try to contain the noises as the fingers thrust in and out fast enough to make him pant for air.

"I'm ready, just do it," Harry demanded, and then shouted as Draco did exactly as he was asked. It was faster and rougher than the sex earlier, but it had been long awaited. Harry fisted his hands in the bedsheets as his sweet spot was nudged, and bucked back to meet each of Draco's thrusts. The pair of them moved together, gaining speed as they reached a rhythm that brought Harry close to the edge, fast. Just when he was about to beg again, Draco changed the direction of his thrusts, hitting Harry's prostate every time.

Pleasure washed over him in waves, starting at his hips and rolling through him like a natural disaster. Draco thrust into him one last time, and Harry felt the hot, slick semen coat him from the inside out as he came down from his high.

Breathing heavily, the two lay still for a few minutes.

"Okay," Harry gasped out. "Now we really _are _going to talk, right?"

Draco laughed into his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Harry."

* * *

**WOW! Longest chapter ever! I got a little bit silly in the middle, and the sex is short, but I have a freaking BRILLIANT idea for the next chapter. Stay tuned! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Happy Valentines Day! Enjoy, as my gift to you.**

**Diclaimer: Not mine. Yet.**

**Warning: Sex. Slash. Awesomeness. (Oh, but that's a good thing...)**

* * *

"The Devil's Snare, like all types of the plant, would be found in a place with no light whatsoever, seeing as this is how they can be forced to release any captives," Harry read aloud. He and Draco were sprawled under the covers, and Harry was trying to focus on the words in the page while Draco's hands and mouth wandered. "Although, sunlight does not destroy them entirely. To do destroy the plant, it must be burned."

"Go back to the part about pent-up desire and sexual gratification," Draco's breath teased Harry's ear. "Or about understanding us, and what we _really _want."

"Draco, this part tells us how to destroy it. As in, no more emergency calls in the middle of Transfiguration. Listen!" Draco grumbled behind him, but toned down the distractions. Now only _one _hand was drifting over Harry's thigh. "Wand-fire is the only thing that can burn it- the plant is resistant to anything non-magical."

"So we just find a fire spell?" Draco asked, voice muffled slightly from having his mouth too close to Harry's neck.

Harry shivered, trying to focus on the book. "Seems like that's the idea. Matches and lighter fluid are out, anyway. But one of our wands should be used to control it, and make sure it doesn't spread."

"Oh. Harry?"

"Hm?"

"What's a match?"

Harry laughed quietly, leaning back against Draco and letting the blonde pull him closer. "It's a kind of fire-starter."

"Right. So…" his hands were trailing up and down Harry's chest, making it very hard to notice the actual words being spoken. "…how do we find a spell when we have no textbooks, and the school's probably looking for us?"

"Well, we ask the Room of Requirement."

"It can't give us bo- OUCH!"

Harry rolled over to see a very peeved Draco and a large, hardcover copy of the _Standard Book of Spells_. "It doesn't like being complained about," Harry explained condescendingly.

"Shut up."

Two hours later, Harry and Draco were sneaking trough Hogwarts' darkened halls in the direction of the third floor corridor. They only had their wands and Harry's cloak. They had gotten dressed with clothes they had called for (and the room had, grudgingly, provided –Harry noted with a snicker that Draco's pants were a size too small: the plant was still miffed. Not to mention that the pool had suddenly gotten deeper when Harry insisted Draco dive in for his glasses, and the stone floor seemed to be more uneven where the blonde tried to walk).

They were huddled close together, bumping into each other as they struggled to stay hidden under the cloak. "Ouch," Draco hissed as Harry stepped on his foot for the third time.

"Oh, just deal with it," Harry snapped back.

"Honestly, between you and that blasted room, I'll be crippled before dawn," Draco muttered, half to himself.

Harry hushed him, ending the whispered dispute. They continued in silence, and Harry tried to ignore the way he reacted when his side touched Draco's. They had sex _three times_, dammit! How much hornier could he get?

As they reached the third floor, Draco suddenly stumbled to a halt. Harry turned, opening his mouth to ask him what was the matter, when he saw the look on the blonde's face. It was flushed, but not obscenely so. In face, it looked a little like it had when-

"It's manipulating you," Harry realized, trying to pull away from him.

"B-be quiet, someone'll come running…" Draco panted through his nose, jaw clenched tight even as he put a hand on the wall to steady himself. It didn't seem to help; he was sliding down to the floor. Harry reached for him, the cloak slipping to the floor, forgotten. "No, you'll just make it worse," Draco gasped, half-falling onto the floor as a shudder wracked his frame. "It's th-the plant, it knows somehow, j-just go!"

Harry swallowed. Draco looked like he was physically restraining himself, digging his nails into his palms and pressing himself against the wall.

"_Go!_" Draco ordered, closing his eyes tightly.

He had barely turned when arousal hit him like a brick wall at a hundred and seventy miles an hour. His head spun, and he gasped for air as he stumbled. Was this what Draco was feeling? How could he take it?

It felt like he was alternately being dipped in icy and steaming water, while something light and teasing traced his cock. The worst part was the tingle at his entrance, just _begging _for him to be filled,

He was on his knees somehow, perhaps dragged there by the force of the plant's magic. Draco was demanding he get up, go on, but Harry could barely hear him. He had never felt anything this strongly before.

His own hands moved to his groin, but he could barely feel it- if anything, it only intensified the desire rather than quenching it, and his hands fluttered helplessly before going to the carpet and dragging him towards Draco.

"N-no, Harry, we need to-" Draco broke off with a moan as Harry straddled his lap, pressing their erections together through their clothes. Even with the material between them, the effect it had on them seemed like it was skin-to-skin. Harry ground down, seeing through a haze of lust as he drowned Draco's feeble protests with a demanding kiss, holding the Slytherin in place by threading his hands in his slivery hair. He groaned, deep in the back of his throat, as Draco's hands slid up his thighs and gripped his ass, pressing them even closer together.

"Please," Harry whined as they broke away for air. His head spun from lack of oxygen, coupled with the plant's properties.

"Get your pants off," Draco directed him, voice still slightly shaky. Harry barely conquered his zipper and button, but Draco took it from there, pushing the garment to his knees before yanking it off entirely. The feather-light touches from the action made Harry's legs wobbly, and he struggled to keep his perch in Draco's lap. When the saliva-slicked fingers breached his entrance, though, Harry fell ungracefully onto Draco with a whimper. It was so good, too good, but not nearly enough.

"Hurry," He murmured, trying to keep himself from crying out from loss as he felt the fingers disappear from inside him. Draco lifted Harry's leg over his shoulder and, in one swift motion, buried himself to the hilt. Harry arched his back, digging his fingers into Draco's sides as he shouted out it absolute pleasure. There was no pain whatsoever, despite the hasty stretching- only the feeling of being complete, filled, wracked with ecstasy. He felt like he was burning with sheer lust, hot enough to sear anything that touched him. But Draco's touch made the heat build, and Harry rolled his hips, trying to force the blonde to pound him.

It didn't take much.

Within seconds, Harry was being fucked into oblivion, making sounds that he was too self-conscious to make in any of his previous states of arousal.

"Yes, ye- _ah,_ oh, God, more," He panted, getting as he asked. Draco had wrapped his fingers around Harry's erection while using the other hand to help maneuver his thrusts, and Harry could feel himself getting impossible close.

Just as he was about to demand more, Draco slammed in a final time, hitting Harry's prostate dead-on as he came, taking Harry over the edge with him. Harry trembled as he came down from his high, collapsing against Draco as he felt Draco's cock slip out of him, followed by a trickle of cum.

"We should get up," Draco whispered into Harry's tousled hair. Harry nodded, but made no move to get up. Neither did Draco.

A few minutes later, they got to their feet gingerly and made their way to the fifth floor because, as Draco pointed out, "It will be hard enough to explain our whereabouts when you _aren't _dripping and limping." They stumbled into the Room of Requirement without being seen, and shed their hastily replaced clothes to get in the pool. The water was warm, and Harry let Draco bring over the shampoo and wash his hair again.

They had been mostly silent during the walk, each thinking about their dilemma. One thing was bothering Harry more than the rest, despite their situation.

"…Draco?"

"Hm?" The blonde responded, coming out of his deep thoughts.

"Why did the plant first go after you instead of me?"

Draco's hands paused in Harry's mane for a long moment before he walked around to face him. "Because I'm spoiled." At Harry's confused look, he went on. "I go after what I want- that book talked about the plant being able to read people, right? Well, it knew I go after what I want, whatever I want, even if you didn't want it."

"So you… want me?" Harry blushed faintly.

"Didn't we already cover this?" Draco protested, but the second Harry's lips touched his it was obvious he wasn't actually annoyed in the least. He ended the kiss too soon for Harry's liking, saying only that he needed to rinse the shampoo before it dried.

It wasn't until his head was halfway under the waterfall that Harry thought more closely on what Draco had said. "What did you mean, 'if I didn't want it'?"

"Harry… Even if you didn't want me to, it did."

Harry's stomach lurched, and he jerked his head up. "You mean…?" Draco nodded, and as he met Draco's eyes, the pain was evident. "Th-that's why you kept telling me…?"

Draco nodded again, and before Harry could think about the consequences, he had thrown his arms around the blonde and buried his face in his shoulder. His head was swimming at the new thoughts. The plant had wanted Draco to _rape _him? And Draco had stopped himself… even though the plants had been urging him on… because he cared?

"You're so much stronger than I am," Harry whispered. "If it had been me, I don't think I would have been able to… to stop myself from…"

Draco's arms were around him, tightening reassuringly. "You would. I know you, Harry."

Pressing a soft kiss to the side of Harry's head, Draco pulled back. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

"No funny business?" Harry teased without any bite.

"Not unless you think cuddling is funny."

As Harry nodded off, wrapped in Draco's arms, he knew that he was lucky. Who knows who else would have been able to hold back like that.

He knew he wouldn't.

* * *

What's this? Jester is actually getting _deep? _Holy crap, the world is ending, right? Oh, well.

Please review first! As a Valentine's gift to your wonderful author? Please?


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay... It's been a while. And I'm sorry!**

**I need to ask you guys a favor. Do you notice how I'm taking longer to update, and the plot line is all over the place? Well, it is.**

**I want you guys to give me every suggestion and thought that you can give me, because I have a crazy case of writer's block. I need advice, otherwise I'm afraid that I'm going to let you guys down and this story will get effed up. If you think it already is, tell me. I'd like to know.**

**Also, If anyone would be interested in beta-ing, I would be grateful. I put too much faith in my own proof-reading abilities.**

**Disclaimer: not mine. Yet...**

**Warning: Smut. Sex. Deepening plot. Sex. Slash. Did I miss anything?**

* * *

Draco was working out solutions in his head as Harry slept, head resting on Draco's chest. The situation was unthinkable at best, and there was almost no one to trust –most of his friends, and Harry's, were out, and even though it would be easier to pretend it never happened around them, they needed outside help if they were going to get rid of this thing.

But… did he really want to? For the first time since the beginning of first year, Harry was looking at him with something other than hatred or disgust in his eyes. Draco sighed, absentmindedly pulling Harry closer. It was his own fault, really, but would it have been better if he acted like a love-struck poof? Word would've gotten around that the heir to the Malfoy legacy was trailing the Boy-Who-Lived like a lost puppy, and his father would kill him and Harry both. No; it was better if he jeered at them, he had decided early on. But recently, it had gotten harder to maintain his façade, and then all of this business with the plant…

…and even after all that, Harry had refused to admit his feelings. Only after the previous day was the golden boy okay with any sort of admission, and even now, Draco felt fairly sure that Harry would deny it after this fiasco was over and done with.

Hence, the hesitation, and the bad attempts at planning.

There wasn't anyone to trust, except… maybe…

Draco's mind went to Blaise. His friend was the only one who knew that he liked Harry (the price of playing one too many games of Truth or Dare with Veritaserum involved) and he had never told anyone. Although, his many perverse jokes had centered around 'nailing the Gryffindor' and other, equally crude terminology. Knowing that Draco actually _had _would make him more likely to let it slip, or even tell someone on purpose.

Harry would suggest Dumbledore, when he woke up. Draco, however, didn't really like the idea of telling the headmaster that he had defiled the Boy-Who-Lived. Even if Dumbledore was a little loony, Draco doubted he was capable of taking it well.

Both of their head teachers were out; McGonagall would probably have a heart attack, and Snape would have a field day when he took the news to Voldemort. Or perhaps an aneurysm, first, and _then _a field day.

Draco groaned quietly. Maybe they should just try to live in the Room of Requirement. After all, he didn't think he would be able to maintain his aloof mask anymore, and even if he did somehow, there was no telling when the plant would strike.

* * *

Harry stirred slightly, squirming closer to the warm embrace. His mind felt like it had been stuffed full of the thick fog that he waded through to fetch the Dursleys' morning paper in the winter, before he had arrived at Hogwarts. His clouded thoughts weren't much of a refuge, and he forced his eyes open with a yawn. "Draco, wake up," he mumbled, tucking his head under the other boy's chin and trying not to fall back asleep.

"I've been awake. You, however, have been drooling on my shoulder for the past several hours.

"I don't drool," Harry grumbled, feeling Draco shake slightly with laughter.

"Maybe not… just seeing if you're actually awake. Since you are, we need to get our story straight."

Harry shifted so he and Draco were face-to-face. His mind was trying to figure out what had happened the previous night, and he wasn't sure what to say. "Draco…?"

The blonde looked tired, and Harry wondered if he had slept at all. Faint purple smudges underlined his eyes, which looked heavy, and his lips were set in a faint, rueful smile. "Yes?"

Unfortunately that was as far as Harry had planned, and he found himself mentally backtracking for something to say. "Um. D-did you sleep?"

Draco's eyebrows arched slightly, and his smile widened. "Not much. I'm touched that you care."

Harry snorted before burrowing closer to him. "Didn't we already cover this?" he mumbled, grinning when Draco chuckled and pulled him closer.

"I suppose we did and, as much as I'd like to revisit the idea, you and I need to talk about how we handle this before the castle figures out where we are and comes to call."

His joking words didn't do much to alleviate his weary tone, and it was obvious why Draco hadn't slept. Harry buried his face in Draco's shoulder, hiding from the consequences.

"Harry?"

He made a low sound of confirmation, not moving, and Draco went on, "I have an idea."

Harry turned his head slightly so he was looking at Draco's ear instead of his neck. "Which is?"

"We lie. About everything. If you're capable of it, that is." He broke off the serious tone as he teased Harry.

"I'm a good liar!"

"No, I really don't think you are."

"I am too! I just don't like it. Too complicated."

"I agree, but do we really have much choice? We can't exactly go begging for help from your friends, or mine."

Harry paused, wincing as he imagined the conversations. He imagined a lot of, _You did _what_? With _who_?_ "So what's our story, then?"

"How's your scar been feeling?"

Harry frowned. "No way. We can't lie about that; it's serious."

"Fine. Then we have to break your leg."

"What? No! Let's break _your _leg! …Why does one of us have to break a leg?"

Draco laughed, making Harry tense as the body below him shook slightly. "Okay, never mind. It was just an idea. What if we said we went down to the forbidden forest and stunned each other in the middle of a duel. If you don't mind getting another bout of detentions, that is. Although, detentions seem to go well for you…"

"Shut it," Harry growled, thinking back to that night. "That was a horrible idea."

"You didn't complain. Much."

Harry couldn't quite scowl like he meant to. Something about how Draco's voice was a smug purr that made Harry want to melt. "Let's get back on track, shall we?" he grumbled.

"Very well. Are we deciding on the Forbidden forest?"

Harry sighed, trying not to focus on the consequences. "Sure."

"Then I you to show me your best lying-face."

Harry pulled back so he hovered over Draco's amused face. "You want me to lie to you?"

"I want you to tell me three things, two true and one that's a lie," Draco explained, sitting up and pulling Harry into his lap.

"Oh." Harry furrowed his brow as he thought. He wasn't sure if Draco was using this as some bizarre way of getting to know him, or if he was actually seeing if he could lie. "You were my first."

"Well, I know _that's _true," Draco grinned broadly.

Harry smacked him on the arm. "Shut up. I'll pick something else." It took a minute, but suddenly Harry grinned. "I've got it. One: I first met Dobby when he tried to stop me from going to Hogwarts. Two: my favorite color is green. Three: I was the one who broke Ron's wand in second year."

"You insult my intelligence, Harry. You didn't break Ron's wand. Although, I'm surprised that your favorite color is green." Draco smiled in satisfaction.

"Fine! You try, then." Harry ordered.

"Fine. One: _my _favorite color is blue. Two: Professor Snape is my Godfather. Three: I was the one who sent Dobby to keep you away from Hogwarts."

Harry was reeling from the last two. "T-two?" Draco shook his head. "Three?" Another shake, this time with a smile of satisfaction. "_Y-you_ sent Dobby?"

A nod. Harry felt like he was suffocating. "Why? Did you really hate me that much?"

Draco looked shocked. "Harry, no! No, that's not it at all!" His hands cupped Harry's face, easing the pressure on his chest. "My father was planning something, I could _tell_, and I knew you would be targeted, and even then, I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting you."

Harry was frozen, trying to remember more about second year. He blinked back the tears that had formed, horrified at his inability to control his own emotions. Not fast enough- one of Draco's thumbs slid up and wiped away the moisture. Harry tried to turn away, hide the vulnerability he didn't even knew he had, but Draco's hands kept him still as Draco leaned forward and kissed him, fast but still gentle. Harry closed his eyes, feeling Draco rub away the tears that were forced out.

"You're being so nice," Harry whispered when Draco finally broke away. "You've always been so mean, even when we were… when we were…"

"Harry, what would happen if people knew I liked you?" Draco tilted Harry's head up so he would meet Draco's eyes. "They would be shocked. The son of a death eater, crushing on the Boy-Who-Lived; it's a disaster waiting to happen, they would say. My own father would've sat me down and spiked my tea with Veritaserum for the truth. I didn't even know if you were gay, and I couldn't put you through that. But I liked you, and I knew that friends wouldn't be enough… enemies was the only thing I ever thought we could be. Plus," He shrugged, fighting to smile. "Weasley's funny when he's mad."

Harry stared. "All this time…"

"I liked you. A lot. But you never let your guard down, and I never knew if… but when I thought it might be possible, I had already dug my own grave with you." Draco blinked quickly, dropping Harry's gaze. He couldn't quite hide, and Harry looked on in shock as a teardrop marked the sheets they were tangled up in.

"Draco," He whispered, cupping Draco's face with both hands as the blonde had done to him. "Draco, look at me." When the Slytherin obliged, he went on, "That was then. Now, we're older, a little wiser. If only a little." He joked, trying to coax a smile out of Draco. "We can figure this out."

"Harry, if I didn't already know you, I'd say you were an optimist." Draco mumbled. "All we've done is confessed our feelings. We've made no progress."

Harry stared at Draco. "People are more accepting than you think they are, Draco," He said quietly, rubbing Draco's cheek with his fingers.

"Yeah, sure. What will the wonderful, accepting Rita Skeeter have to say if word ever gets to her?"

"Rita Skeeter can kiss my arse," Harry answered in his previous, calm tone.

Draco snorted, and looked at Harry from under his blonde fringe. "She'd better not. That right is mine alone, now," Draco seemed to realize something. "Great Merlin, listen to us. We're blubbering on about our feelings like a couple of bloody pansies." He straightened, and a small smile somehow found its way onto his lips as he transformed back into the ever-prideful Malfoy.

Harry shook his head in wonderment. He had thought that Draco would break down, but he had pushed it all back in at the last moment, and put on a brave face. This face was improved, though; this one had a smile, all for Harry.

* * *

**And It will be continued. If you didn't read the top AN, I'd appreciate it if you did. I could really use some pointers, suggestions, declarations of adoration... etc. :) I would especially love some ideas about how they should deal with the whole issue of their being gone for almost an entire day. Any thoughts? Predictions? Candy-canes?**

**Well, think about it, my lovelies. I hope to hear from you!**

**Sincerely, **

_**Jester.**_


	15. Chapter 15

I know, it's been WAY too long. But I won't waste time with excuses.

The decision I made about the story requires a break from my Harry-Draco, which I apologize for. Hopefully, you all won't lynch me. Keep in mind that this is all part of the plan. :)

Warning: Slash

Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn Copyrights.

I missed you all- and I want to thank you for your GREAT IDEAS! I don't deserve you guys. :)

* * *

Sirius Black paced furiously in 12 Grimmauld Place, raking his fingers through his hair and thinking hard. He had never seen Harry act so strangely- the boy was obviously skittish about something, the way he kept blushing and changing the subject. And what a subject! Sirius winced at the surge of repressed emotion. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stalked into the kitchen, almost kicking Kreacher aside with one foot.

Then there was the laugh- so familiar, but still different. Sirius walked the length of the table and back, trying to remember. Against his will, a memory flew to the surface of his mind.

"_James, we should've been home hour-hic!-hours ago," Sirius mumbled, staggering across the street with James' arm slung around his shoulders. _

"_Oh, please," James tittered. He seemed to be finding everything funny. His breath smelled strongly of firewhiskey, making Sirius suspect hazily that his own breath reeked, too._

"_Lily will be worrying about you," Sirius hiccupped again, trying to remember who Lily was. All he knew was that James needed to get home to her. And himself… where was his home again?_

_Abruptly, James' arm was gone, making Sirius blink in surprise. He looked around in utter befuddlement. His friend had been at his side not a moment before… right?_

_Loud, crystal laugher reached his ears, and Sirius spun, paused for a moment until the world righted itself, and stared._

_There were three men, but only one- the laughing one- caught his attention. He was tall, too well muscled to be considered willowy, while still being lean. His posture was impeccably pure-blood-esque, retaining a dancer's grace even as he put out a hand to steady himself on the muggle lamppost he stood under. The light made his hair shine as it swung below his shoulders, impossibly straight, and the man's teeth gleamed as he laughed. _

_Sirius tore his gaze away to the other two, who had their wands raised. He glanced up, and saw a flailing James being held upside-down several meters above his head. _

"_Oi," He croaked, gaining the attention of the three vaguely familiar men. James didn't dip any closer to the ground. "You ought to set him down, otherwise he'll come after you tossers when he's sobered up."_

_Before Sirius could blink, the blonde had stalked up to him. To Sirius' chagrin, the stranger had a good three inches on him, and stopped so close that Sirius could only tip his head back and gulp slightly. _

_Gleaming gray eyes caught his, and Sirius flinched a little as cold, long fingers cradled his chin and tilted his head further back. "You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?" The blonde asked softly, amusement still lighting his eyes and turning up the corners of his mouth. "Brave, to a fault. A shame."_

_Sirius managed to find his voice, but not his legs. "Why a shame?" He whispered._

"_Because for a Gryffindor, you are really quite attractive._

Sirius clenched white-knuckled hands on the back of a chair. Even after James had fallen back to Earth beside him and they had gone home, and even through the splitting headache of the next morning, he had remembered Lucius. It might've had something to do with the scrap of parchment that he had discovered in his pocket….

Sirius forced those thoughts away and focused instead on the memories of his conversation with Harry. The laughter from within the mirror was the same, but… different, somehow. Higher, purer…

…younger.

Sirius shook his head slowly. It wasn't possible. Harry hated Draco Malfoy.

Didn't he?

_Maybe he hates Draco in the same way that you hated Lucius, _a dangerous, smug voice whispered in his ear.

Sirius closed his eyes. It wouldn't do any good… no good at all…

He tightened his grip on the back of the chair, but even the acute pain of the splinters couldn't ease the craving. Sirius looked slowly to the corner of the room. There was a door, cloaked by disillusionment charms, that no one knew about but him.

_Just once, only once, and never again,_ the voice coaxed.

Sirius found himself at the threshold, hand on the knob. There was only the slightest of pauses before he pushed it open and walked inside.

The room was plain: white walls that had turned gray with shadows and cobwebs, a stone floor that was covered in a fine layer of dust. There was no furniture- only a waist-high pedestal with runes carved into it, and a basin at the top. If it weren't for the milky, swirling mercury-like liquid that filled it, one might assume that it was a birdbath.

The pensive had been given to him by Dumbledore as a means of consolation. He had been unable to recall much of his time with James and Remus because of his endless exposure to the dementors. A block had formed in his mind, built by dementor magic, which kept him from remembering any good memories he possessed. With help from the headmaster, he had poured his memories into the pensive. True to his rebellious nature, Sirius had disregarded the warnings from Dumbledore about relying on the pensive. The wise professor had cautioned him, saying that he needed to make his own memories. Even Dumbledore didn't know the extent of that impossibility.

The pensive cast a silver glow across the walls and floor, but the ceilings were still wreathed in shadows. Sirius braced his hands, shaking despite his attempted calm, on either side of the stone bowl. The liquid memories lapped at his thumbs, which trailed in the thick substance, and as if they could sense what he wanted, a scene appeared on the surface. The image of Lucius, smiling wickedly as he leaned against a doorframe.

Sirius allowed his hands to slip into the Pensive, shivering at the feeling of the viscous matter slipping over his skin. He resisted the pull of the enchanted object, instead leaning closer. As he moved in, the image of Lucius grew. When the tips of his hair skimmed the surface of the liquid, Lucius was close enough, real enough, to kiss. Sirius closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and plunged.

There was the usual disorientation. Falling through nothingness until walls formed, and Sirius fell feet-first into his bedroom at the Potters' house.

James was snoring in his bed on one side of the room, but Sirius forced himself to turn his back on his friend. Instead, he faced the memory of himself.

His face was full, smooth, and virtually unmarked by worry or pain. Sirius smiled as his past form pushed his collar-length hair behind one ear with and impatient shove. It had always been too long, never staying where it was meant to.

The teenage Sirius was examining a slip of parchment that he had found in his pocket the day after his run-in with Lucius Malfoy- not that he had known who it was. As his brow furrowed deeply, Sirius moved closer. This practice, which Dumbledore had shown him, required precision.

As his past self opened his mouth to sigh in exasperation, Sirius darted forward. As soon as his hand overlapped with that of his former, he was pulled into his teenage body with the feeling akin to apparation, only more fluid.

There was a moment of disorientation as Sirius's mind warped, becoming that of his seventeen-year-old self. The gray-tinted memories of the pensive sharpened and brightened, and Sirius felt old thoughts rise to the surface of his mind. He couldn't change the past- but he could re-live it.

Mentally relaxing, Sirius allowed his mind to merge with his prior thoughts, and drifted into the past.

_The paper could only have been the blonde's doing- he would've noticed someone else getting that close to him to spell his pocket, even in his inebriated state. Sirius furrowed his brow and rubbed his thumb over the edge of the crinkled slip of parchment. _

_Little Gryffindor, _

_I admit to being intrigued by you. Naïve, but still courageous enough to tempt me into learning more about you. If you wish to meet again, I will wait in _The Basilisk_, in the Southern corner, for the next three Saturday nights. Come alone, if at all- I do not share._

_-L._

_The paper was already growing soft around the edges from being handled so frequently. It had appeared in his pocket the morning after his run-in with the stranger, and after much examination of his robes, Sirius had discovered a transporting charm on his left pocket. It worked in such a way that two containers were spelled to contain the same matter, and something placed into one place could be taken from the other wormhole. After several minutes of inward debate, he had left the charm in place._

_Now it was the third Saturday after their initial encounter, and Sirius was trying to make a decision. The Garden was a popular pureblood club, where there was music and a wide array of magical drinks- some potions, others high priced muggle alcohol- and, supposedly, rooms upstairs where favored patrons could go for privacy._

_Would it be so bad? A one-night-stand with a handsome stranger?_

_But his friends were troubling- Voldemort's followers had descriptions similar to the blonde's friends: long dark cloaks. And… And…_

_Sirius frowned. Just because he hadn't recognized the other two didn't mean James didn't know them. Hell, he wanted to hex James sky-high half the time he was sober. _

So what's holding you back? _He wondered mutely. _

_Nothing, he decided. Sirius stood, plucked his cloak from where it was folded on the foot of the bed- courteous of the ever-caring, motherly Mrs. Potter – and set off._

_As he crept from the darkened house, Sirius had a thought. Maybe he should reply to the stranger, to make sure that the blonde didn't leave early. _

_He tore the bottom off of Mrs. Potter's grocery list, summoned his quill from his room, and transfigured a cold cup of tea into an inkwell. Scribbling furiously for a moment, he then spelled the objects to the way they had been, and put the hasty note into his pocket before he could second-guess himself._

_It was a moment before Sirius could remember where the pureblood club was. He had only been there once before, on a dare from James._

_In a split second, he stumbled into existence on the corner of Brindle and Sage, gasping after the still-new feeling of being squeezed from within. It was a success, though; he stood in front of the doors of _The Basilisk. _The solid pieces of oak were open, surprisingly enough, and there were no guards that Sirius could see. Between the two doors, a few steps into the establishment, was a delicate podium cradliong a coiled, golden snake that gleamed slickly in the glow of the flickering streetlights._

_Sirius stepped up with trepidation, and stopped just as quickly as the metallic viper raised its head. It leaned close to Sirius, almost nose-to-nose with him, and whispered in thickly accented English, "Enter, pureblood."_

_Blinking in shock, Sirius scurried in, giving the snake- now as tightly coiled as when he had arrived –a wide birth._

"_Alarming, isn't it?" a voice whispered from barely within the club. Sirius could hear music at the end of the hallway, but glanced at the man anyway. As if cued by the glance, the man continued, "That little snake can scent a person's bloodline. Anything less than pure-" the man made a snapping motion with one hand "-and the venom turns the poor sod to solid gold._

_Sirius nodded jerkily, edging past the man and towards the open door, through which he could see people chatting and dancing. "Lovely," he snorted, thankful that his voice didn't let on to his alarm. There were some advantages to being a Black, after all- but why was he so damn nervous about meeting some stranger?_

_Then he was inside the dance room, which was dark, smoky, lit mostly by roving streams of multi-colored wandlight. Off to one side was a bar, stocked with hundreds of bottles. Sirius spared a curious moment to watch the bartender- an agile, olive-skinned man- pour two ducky liquids together to produce a foaming, shimmering gold concoction. But despite the drinks and the loud, thumping music, this was unlike the other clubs Sirius had ever been to. At the others there were people letting loose, dancing and drinking with abandon. Here, he had a distinct feeling that no one ever let loose. Everyone was also dressed to perfection, and Sirius would've put money on his robes being the cheapest in the house. And there were not cheap robes._

_Glancing around hopefully, Sirius spotted a shimmer of silver-blonde. He smiled, pleased that he hadn't been stood up, and began to weave through the dancing, drinking crowd._

_Within minutes, the man stood before him, leaning casually against a wall and still managing to radiate power and money. Sirius took ha moment to take in the sight. Long hair that was a gleaming platinum fell to below his shoulders, perfectly straight. His dress robes were black, embossed with red accents- bloody red, not Gryffindor maroon. His skin was the palest in the room, with delicate but strong features. Sharp jaw and cheekbones, straight nose, and long fingers that curled loosely around a wand in one hand. There was an edgy knowledge about him: he knew everyone was watching him, yet he was watching no one. Sirius felt sure that the stranger's body would be equally impressive, if the rest of him was anything to go by._

_Just as that thought had crossed his mind, Sirius felt someone crash into him violently from behind, and he pitched forward, into the body he had just been wondering about. Sirius had to focus very hard not to turn scarlet as he found himself looking up into a pair of dove-gray eyes shining like silver with amusement._

"_I didn't think you were the type to just fall into my arms," the full, gently smirking lips spoke just loudly enough to be heard. _

_Trying to recover his aplomb, Sirius smirked back and replied, "So I take it you've been thinking of me?"_

"_Of course. Otherwise, would I have come? Your reply, by the way," Sirius jumped slightly as a hand snaked its way between them, but instead of continuing, it snuck into the front pocket of the stranger's robes, retrieving a slip of paper. "Indicated that you thought of me as well, instead of _stumbling _across me randomly," The blonde smiled._

_Sirius couldn't stop the blush as he read his own words:_

L,

I'm in. Hopefully, you haven't found better things to do. After these extreme measures, it would certainly be a let-down.

-S.

"_You thought I would stand you up?"_

_His eyes snapped up to "L," and he realized how vulnerable he was, so close to the man. But as Sirius tried to step back, arms curled around his waist, and the Stranger's voice was suddenly next to his ear. "I wouldn't dream of it." He pulled back, but slowly, and not nearly far enough for Sirius' heart to stop racing- a strand of silvery hair stroked Sirius' cheek. There was abrupt silence, with a few scattered murmurs, and jest before the next bass-heavy song began, the stranger asked, "Do you dance?"_

_Sirius smiled. Indeed he did._

_Only when they reached the dance floor did the blonde move his hands: to Sirius' hips. Sirius raised an eyebrow at the blatant show of ownership. At the inquiring look, his partner smiled knowingly. "Trust me- with this crowd, you don't want to be shared."_

"_How would I know?" Sirius shot back. "I don't even know who you are, much less who your friends are."_

_He was cut off by his own sharp inhalation as the older man began to slide his thumbs in slow, deliberate circles over each of Sirius' hipbones. It had always been a sensitive place for him, and the gliding touch was more than enough to shut him up._

"_Lucius."_

_After a moment, Sirius placed his hands on Lucius' shoulders, partially to have something to do with the anxious digits, and partially to disguise the fact that his knees were going ever-so-slightly weak. "Sirius." He raised his chin somewhat in challenge. Between his looks, his name, and his blood, there was only one person he could be- and everyone knew the story of the 'Black' sheep._

_But Lucius' expression didn't falter, and Sirius' eyes widened as the hands on his hips tightened ever-so-slightly. "It's a pleasure, Sirius."_

"_L-likewise… Lucius," Sirius rediscovered his voice, struggling to appear calm between his overwhelming relief, and the way that Lucius' simple touches were affecting him._

_Before either of them could speak again, someone knocked into Sirius again. His shoes slid on the polished wood floor, and to his horror, he found himself flush against and staring up at Lucius. He tried to back away, but the ever-present hands on his hips kept him exactly where the larger man wanted him. Lucius made brief, teasing eye contact before looking over Sirius' shoulder and saying, " Do watch yourself, Crabbe. Any more of those pixie-drinks and you'll never get home."_

_Then he spun Sirius around, the two of them still separated by little more than clothes, and smirked down at the trapped Gryffindor. "Now," he purred. "Where were we?"_

* * *

Haha! Sort-of-cliffy. Not really. But kinda, right? )

I love you guys, and I love your reviews! Please tell me what you think.

Sincerely, and with hugs,

Jester.

P.S. This is my longest chapter by a LOT. That counts for something, right? )


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N:** I'm not going to waste your time with excuses- it's been a tough couple of months. With any luck, I'll be posting more often, but the timing** will** be choppy._

_**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling has been burning my letters and deleting my emails, but I SHALL OWN THE HARRY POTTER RIGHTS! I just... don't right now..._

_**Warnings:** Nothing too bad in this chapter (I know, disappointing! ) ) But there will be soon! Although really, you should know this by now if you're on chapter sixteen. I mean, seriously. XD_

_Well, what are you waiting for? **Read!**_

* * *

Harry looked back and forth into the eyes of his best friends, trying to judge their reactions. Ron looked as if he were about to have a heart attack, with white-knuckled fingers gripping the chair in the Gryffindor commons and wide, horrified eyes. Hermione's face reminded Harry of a small, white clay mask that Aunt Petunia had hung in the upstairs corridor of their house: hard, cold, and utterly blank.

Harry's fidgets and breathing seemed too loud to him, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Say something!"

Ron flinched, eyes turning accusing. "What do you want us to say," he growled, "After you've just gone and told us that the reason you spontaneously vanished after Transfiguration was because you fancied a make-out session… with _Malfoy?_ After Hermione and I drove ourselves mad trying to find you, and couldn't sleep because we were so worried-" Harry noted, with a great deal of dismay, the smudges of purple under their eyes, which just looked like ordinary shadows in the lamplight. "-and we nearly killed ourselves trying to tell people that you were missing… What do you want us to bloody _say?_"

"Would you rather I lied to you?" Harry croaked, staring at Ron and feeling sick to his stomach from guilt, and what felt horribly like rejection. Every word felt like another hit to Harry's gut. "Would you rather I made up some sort of _story_-"

"No," Hermione said suddenly, and her low, even voice was such a drastic change from the rising voices of the two boys that they both snapped their heads in her direction.

"No, Harry, I just wish that you had never done it in the first place."

Harry felt like he might start screaming, or burst into tears. "I wasn't my _fault_-"

"How can you say that? You can always say no. You can always ask for help. But the fact that you… that you would…" she stood up and began to make her way over to the entrance to the girl's dormitories, leaving Ron and Harry staring after her.

Just before she ascended the stairs, she paused, and without turning, spoke up, "I just can't believe you would do this, Harry. With all of us counting on you, I can't believe you'd do it."

As she left, Ron got to his feet, and stared down at the Boy Who Lived. "I don't know what disgusts me more," He snarled, "The fact that you're shagging a bloke, or the fact that the bloke is _Malfoy_," Ron spat the name with the same repulsion and anger- but none of the fear- of when he said _Voldemort_.

Harry was left, staring into the fire, abandoned by the two people he needed most in the world.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open, and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He had fallen asleep in the common room, long after the flames had burned down to embers… so why was he looking at a naked Draco Malfoy, sitting in a high-backed chair in the light of a massive window with a book on mystical plants open in his hands?

Even though Harry was sure he hadn't moved in the slightest, Draco glanced up from the text, as if alerted by something. His mouth quirked up into a little guilty smile. "Sorry, Harry- I know I said I wouldn't let you fall asleep, but you looked so tired and- Harry? Harry, what's wrong?"

Even though the tears had begun to fall, pooling in the curve of his glasses before trickling from his cheek to the sheets, Harry felt like he was drowning in relief. Draco clambered onto the bed, got his foot caught in the sheets and falling flat with a thump in his rush to get to Harry. "What's happened?" Draco kept asking as he wrapped his arms around Harry and held him close, trying to kiss away the tears.

"Nothing, it's just a- _hic! _–just a dream…"

Draco touched their noses lightly, relaxing slightly in relief. "Want to tell me about it?"

Harry did. At the end of the painful retelling, Harry's face was buried in the crook of Draco's neck, and he was trying hard not to cry again. "Harry, you know they won't be like that," Draco whispered into Harry's ear.

"It was just so… so _real_… I don't know how I would handle it."

"But it _wasn't real_. And we would figure it out- get support from Sirius, or Dumbledore, or _something_-"

"Still. I want to wait a while before telling them."

Draco hesitated for the slightest of moments before holding Harry closer, and murmuring, "Of course."

* * *

As Harry put on his robes, cleaned by the strange magical box the size of a toaster that Draco had conjured using the room ("It's a laundry box, Harry! Every wizarding home has one- how do you wash _your _clothes?") he looked around at the temporary home that the room of requirement had become for them. It was every bit as spectacular as it had been when he first entered, with a few modifications- like the windows- that had been added as they went. It really was a home- the perfect home, combining both of their tastes to make it comfortable for both of them, while still being a surprise at every turn.

Draco's robed arms slid around Harry's waist, and Harry was surprised at how much he already missed the familiar feel of Draco's skin. Warm lips touched his neck, and he smiled slightly, leaning back into the embrace and tilting his head slightly to allow Draco better access.

"You know, watching you put clothes on just makes me want to take them off you all over again," Draco murmured against the skin just below Harry's earlobe, and Harry felt a low pulse of need that took his breath away.

"We can't… we've already stayed too long," Harry whispered back, but didn't move as Draco's hands slid to his hips and lingered there, thumbs and forefingers splayed on Harry's unclothed abdomen as the other three fingers from each hand dipped below the waistband on Harry's trousers as if the cloth wasn't even there.

The whole of Draco's body pressed against Harry's back as Draco stepped forward-

-and placed a final kiss on Harry's neck before stepping away, despite the little disappointed noise that Harry made when he did.

"You said it, love- we've already stayed too long." Harry turned around, flushed, and quickly put on his shirt and robe.

"So… we meet here in two nights?" Harry said, clearing his throat. He felt suddenly shy- silly, after being so comfortable naked with Draco. But maybe the problem was that Draco was looking at him as if he were _still _naked.

"Two nights," Draco nodded. "We should try not to talk to one another, unless… you know, we fight or something."

"Right. 'Course." Harry didn't know if he could manage to fight with Draco after all this… especially if Draco kept looking at him like_ that_. "Should we, erm, go?"

"Do you have everything? Because of our respective cover stories, it might be a little hard to explain how your wand ended up in the Room of Requirement."

Harry smiled wryly and ran a hand through his hair, contemplating that slip-up. "I double-checked. Nothing left behind."

Draco smiled. He looked as if he'd just stepped out of a muggle salon, with perfect hair and glowing, clear skin. The only indication that he hadn't been sleeping as much as he would've probably liked was the slight sag in his precise posture. "That's one less thing to worry about, then."

There was a light pause, broken when Harry stepped forward and kissed Draco on the lips. Draco responded immediately, placing one hand back at Harry's hip, and the other at the small of Harry's back.

When they finally broke away, Harry kissed Draco one last time, on the cheek, and turned to walk to the doors leading to the fifth floor corridor.

"Be careful," Draco called after him, just before he opened the door. Harry turned and did his best to smile reassuringly.

"You, too."

Then he twisted the door handle, and left the Room of Requirement.

* * *

_I know, it was short- but it seemed like the best place to stop, and I didn't want to make you guys wait any more._

_More chapters are coming, and remember:_

_ -**Advice is always appreciated**_

**_ -Grammar/spelling corrections are always needed_**

**_ -And reviews are the reason I get up in the morning. _**

_In short? I love to hear from you guys, for any reason. **Tell me what you think!**_


	17. Chapter 17

**I know, I'm late, late, late, and this is shorter that it should be. I'm sorry- I just got back from a trip with little to no internet access! Ick!**

**Anyway, enjoy! This one kind of helps me with the plot- I promise you more smut and more on both plotlines before too long. :)**

**Disclaimer: Yesterday, I proposed to J.K. Rowling, saying that I would settle for half of the Harry Potter rights as a compromise. She sicced her dogs on me. I didn't know people were _allowed _ to own that many Rottweilers! But now, it's _on. _NO MORE MRS. NICE JESTER!**

**Warning: Smut. Slash. But really, you should've figured that out by now. Just saying. (Nothing too graphic in this chapter. Sorry!)**

* * *

Harry walked quickly from the Room of Requirement, looking both ways before entering a corridor on the watch for Filch, or Peeves, or even a tardy student. He had barely reached the intersection that would take him to the common room before he heard voices echoing down the hallway behind him. Harry dashed around the corner, switching to speed rather than stealth, only to rebound off of a hard, compact body and crash to the floor. It took a moment for his head to clear and his eyes to open, and when they did, he was faced with a sight more fearsome and terrible than any he had seen before: a livid Mad-Eye Moody.

"_Where in the name of Merlin have you been, Potter?" _He roared, before grabbing the shell-shocked boy by the arm and dragging him through the halls to Dumbledore's office, bellowing obscenities the whole way (Harry wasn't even sure that the _paintings _would recover from the trauma, much less the cluster of curious third years that they had passed).

Though it had seemed impossible, the inside the office was worse. To Harry's utter disbelief, half of the Order of the Phoenix was assembled, and each person had a look on his or her face ranging from surprise at Harry's arrival, to- in Snape's case- blatant suspicion. The only two (sort of) friendly faces Harry could find were Dumbledore himself –who looked mildly amused for some reason- and Sirius, who looked pained.

Once everyone had settled down, Moody turned and took a deep breath to begin shouting at him.

After growing up with the Dursleys, Harry thought he was virtually immune to red-faced men screaming at him in rage.

This was woefully inaccurate.

Before the first sentence was fully out of Moody's mouth, Harry had shrunk down in his seat until his shoulders were level with the armrests, and by the third chorus of, "_What makes you think you can just drop your responsibilities and go AWOL?_" he was searching for anyone to intervene on his behalf to save him from his impending death-by-volume.

But under his initial shock, Harry was starting to feel the first curls of real guilt in his chest. As Moody raved above him, his mind reviewed the last day that he had spent in Draco's arms at the expense of the worry and time of the Order. They had been searching for him the whole time, while they could've been setting more wards around Hogwarts, or capturing Death Eaters.

As his train of thought came to an end, so did Moody's tirade. The auror paused for breath to continue, but Dumbledore rose to his feet and said smoothly, "Alastor, I believe that was sufficient shouting. Before Harry goes any paler, perhaps we should inform him that the Order only came at the insistence of Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, and, belatedly, Sirius Black," Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Sirius, and back to Harry. "Alastor was the only one of us roaming the castle for you- we, on the other hand, were forming a locator charm, which only requires three witches or wizards- in this case, Sirius, Kingsley and myself- and everyone else was preparing to depart. You have not created the brouhaha that it appears to be."

Harry sagged in relief as Dumbledore turned from him to dismiss the Order, including a sour-looking Moody.

"Now, Harry." Dumbledore was looking at him with a twinkle in his eye. "I know that you have quite a lot of people to explain quite a lot of things to, but I must ask that you put a sock on the door, as the muggles say, the next time you and Mr. Malfoy engage."

Harry thought his face would burst into flames. "Wha-? How-?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I know all that goes on in this castle. I have superior senses that allow me to see and hear _everything…_" The All-Mighty Headmaster managed exactly three-point-two seconds of all-knowing superiority before smiling broadly and chuckling. "Not really, Harry- no one knows everything. Dobby told me."

"_OhthankMerlin,_" Harry let out his breath, deflating in sheer relief. The thought of Dumbledore knowing _everything _was more than enough to keep him celibate.

"I do, however, know the circumstances. I apologize- Professor Sprout was conducting an experiment with the Devil's Snare with the expectation that no student would have a need to use that corridor." Tapping his desk with his fingertips, Dumbledore turned serious. "I must admit, Harry, I question your judgment. Draco Malfoy is not someone to be trifled with- nor is his father. What will this _affair_- pardon the term – lead to? I do not believe that Draco Malfoy has nefarious intents, but once his family learns of it, they will surely attempt to sway him. If he refuses, he will be at serious risk. If he doesn't, _you_ will be."

Harry was clutching the armrests in a white-knuckled grip as he listened to Dumbledore speak. He hadn't thought this through at all. Dumbledore was right- they couldn't keep the secret forever, and once it came out, both of them would be vulnerable.

"We can offer Mr. Malfoy protection- both mentally and physically- but we can only do so if he allows us to." At Harry's hopeful expression, Dumbledore raised a cautioning hand. "This is more complex than it seems, Harry. If he accepts, he will put his parents in an extremely tenuous position… and though I could be wrong, I doubt that a pair of seasoned Death Eaters will give up the rising power that they have been awarded to go into hiding with their son.

"Even more unlikely is the idea that Voldemort will simply allow any number of his closest followers to simply slip away. My eyes and ears have reported that he has plans for Draco… and only Draco. If he is indeed irreplaceable in Voldemort's schemes, then we can anticipate more that a brief tug-of-war."

There was a moment of silence as each of them digested the words. Fawkes cooed from his roost, and Dumbledore settled back in his seat. "Just be careful from now on, especially in regards to who you share information with. Meet with Draco as infrequently as you can stand- I will alert Professor Sprout of the pressing nature of finding an antidote. Additionally, it makes sense for you and Mr. Malfoy to have a place that the two of you may use to speak privately. There is a room between the dungeons and the Gryffindor dormitories that in only accessible to those who have knowledge of it- which, at the moment, only includes myself. I will send directions to you and Mr. Malfoy, and I do ask that no one else become aware of it. If you have any concerns or news, you need only ask."

"Thank you, professor," Harry said quietly. He rose to leave, but paused. "Er, I was wondering… do you possibly have any excuses that Dr- Malfoy and I could use?"

Dumbledore didn't glance up from what he was writing, but his eyes sparkled. "Why, Harry, I assumed you had found a suitable explanation."

* * *

_4 hours ago_

Sirius basked in the memory, in the look in Lucius' eyes as he leaned in to claim his mouth in a most-certainly-not-chaste kiss. He had missed this, the feeling of being held, being _taken…_

"Sirius? Sirius!"

Breaking out of the surface of the pensive was like being woken with a hot iron on one's face, and Sirius had to blink repeatedly and press his fingers into his temples before his surroundings made any sense.

The voices were coming from the kitchen- in his haste, Sirius had forgotten to close the door to the secret room. Exiting cautiously, with his heart in his throat, Sirius breathed a sigh of relief- the room was devoid of people, save for the two heads in his fireplace.

But his relief was short-lived as he recognized the faces. "Ron? Hermione? What's happened?"

It's Harry," Hermione blurted first. "He's gone missing! No one will help us look for him! All of the teachers think it's some sort of stunt and the students… well, they aren't thinking very well of Harry right now in the first place…"

Sirius' heart turned to stone. All this time he had wasted, knowing that something was wrong with Harry, and he hadn't acted… _Please, don't let it be too late. Don't let him be… _"What about Dumbledore?"

"H-he and McGonagall have been in a meeting for ages- All we can do is leave him messages."

Sirius thought, long and hard. "I'll do my best to get in touch with him. Look _everywhere_, and keep checking Dumbledore's office."

He backed away from the coals, making sure Ron and Hermione had vanished before diving for the mirror, still on the table. "Harry? Harry, are you there?" He shouted, tilting the mirror this way and that before throwing it down in disgust. All he could see was the inside of a wooden object- a drawer, or box.

Perhaps he should fire-call Dumbledore immediately, to begin the search, and then call in the Order for backup. But he couldn't remember- did McGonagall know the truth about his allegiance? Or did she still think he was a mass murderer? If he were to pop up in Dumbledore's fire and blew his cover, it would be another mess to sort out, which would give Lucius' son more time to cover his tracks. No… it would be best to go straight through to the Order, and have one of them contact Dumbledore.

He kneeled at the fireplace, close enough for the heat to begin to be unbearable. "Mad-Eye Moody," He said as commandingly as he could before holding his breath- both out of nerves and self-preservation.

_Hang in there, Harry._

* * *

**Oh, Sirius. You think you're being helpful...**

**No worries, guys. I'll be trying to update more often, and I may even have some drabbles in a new story- I got inspired by the movie. **

**(SPOILER ALERT!: Did anyone else just LOVE that awkward Voldemort/Draco hug? I had to stuff my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing too loud. And the scene in the Room of Lost Things was awesome. It was satisfying to finally see Draco behind Harry... XD)**

**Anyway, as always, I hope to hear lots of feedback and advice- you guys are awesome!**

**Sincerely, **

**Jester.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Happy birthday to me! And you you guys, because I'm up at a quarter past two in the morning finishing this. So, enjoy it. :)**

**I am actually reasonably pleased with this chapter... It makes me happy. XD**

**Warning: Smut! Finally, right? Yaoi, slash, lemon, whatever you call it... It be here... )**

**Disclaimer: Last night, I attempted to scale J.K. Rowlings' house and steal the rights from her, but my suction-cup gloves were too big, and I fell into her rosebushes and set off the security system. But I'll be back- after a quick trip to the spy-equipment place. THEY WILL BE MINE! (I can't believe I just thought of that off of the top of my head at two a.m. I'm certifiable.) **

**Enjoy! XD**

* * *

Harry stood at the entrance to Dumbledore's study for longer than was strictly necessary. At first, he was trying to decide how to approach Ron and Hermione- It would need to be a good distance away from everyone else, but that would be impossible while they were in class. He could always wait in the common room, but that would waste time that he could be using to contact Draco, or talk to Sirius.

Then the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's study growled, "Kid, if you don't get off my toes right this bloody second, I'll give you more to worry about than your next potions essay."

The not-exactly-subtle hint was enough to get Harry moving. It was almost a quarter 'til ten, which gave him enough time to get to Hagrid's house before Care of Magical Creatures began. From there, he could flag down Ron and Hermione before class started- even if he didn't have enough time to tell them everything, it would still give him a chance to explain the gist of the cover story he and Draco had concocted. It was far from foolproof, though. He had honestly been hoping that Dumbledore would have a perfect explanation ready for him.

He walked through the grounds, still keeping a lookout for anyone who might've been searching for him. As he made his way to the top of the hill on the way to Hagrid's hut, he noticed how cold it was. Frost crunched underfoot even though it was midmorning, and when Harry looked up, he noticed that the clouds were a pale gray, but heavy, as they always were before a heavy snowfall. Harry pulled his robed more tightly around him, giving the grounds a last look before descending from the hilltop. The grounds of Hogwarts were always beautiful, especially when they were glittering with frost or ice, or draped in thigh-high snowdrifts. It was just easier to appreciate it when one was wearing heavier clothing than the regular uniform- say, a wool coat or two.

Harry was nearly to the door when he became aware of rapid footfalls behind him. He whirled around, hand going for his wand, only to be tackled to the cold, hard ground by a mass of curly brown hair. "Harry! Where in the name of Merlin have you been? We've been worried sick!"

"Hermione, let him breathe," Ron said, offering them each a helping hand as they got to their feet, where Hermione promptly hugged him again. "We thought something terrible had happened!"

"I'm fine, 'Mione," Harry reassured her, smiling apologetically at Ron. "I really didn't mean to worry you guys." The red head shrugged, smiling back, but his eyes didn't quite lose their weary curiosity. Harry felt a hot flush of shame as he noticed the dark circles under Ron's eyes, followed up by a pang of dread as he recalled his nightmare.

"You look bloody awful, mate," Ron commented as Hermione finally relinquished her hold on Harry. "Where were you?"

Under Ron's lighthearted tone, Harry sensed genuine hurt and concern. Harry moved forward and clapped Ron on the shoulder, smiling as much as he could manage. "I'm really okay- and I'm sorry that you guys worried. Let's take a walk before class, and I'll explain." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, and his friends seemed more complacent- Hermione scrubbed at her eyes, muttering something about dust, and Ron's shoulders appeared to lose some of their tension- but at the same time, Harry's heart sank lower as he remembered that it wouldn't actually be the truth- not yet, at least.

They set off on the winding path that headed in the general direction of the greenhouses, deciding that they would turn back at the halfway point, which was marked by a hunk of stone (supposedly a leftover from the castle's original creation) that was large enough to clamber onto and lend a seat.

"So," Harry mumbled as they walked. "You know, I ran out of the Transfiguration class because of D- _Malfoy_. He was being the biggest git after the duel, swaggering around, and so I wanted to get him alone- I told him that we should duel again, to settle things. After Filch interrupted us the first time, there was obviously no winner-"

"Hold on," Ron interrupted, stopping in the middle of the path. "You never mentioned Filch before!"

Harry went cold. "D-didn't I?" He forced out, trying to look puzzled. "Maybe I didn't- I was pretty out of it that morning…"

"Yeah… of course…."

"So I dragged Malfoy outside, and before I could get a word out to lay down any rules, he tries to stun me! We start dueling, right then and there! It was bloody mental- he was going after me like I'd stolen his hair gel or something." Harry winced inwardly at the remark. Draco hadn't been using gel recently- that was one of the things that had drawn Harry to him. Something about the way he tucked it behind his ear when the bangs brushed his cheek…

"You were dueling? In broad daylight? Oh, _Harry, _you could've gotten in so much trouble if someone had seen you! You might _still _get in trouble! I cannot _believe _you'd do something so irresponsible…" Hermione shook her head and tried to mold her fretful expression into something sterner.

Ron was looking slightly less disgruntled at the mention of dueling Draco. "Well, what happened then?" He interjected before Hermione could go on.

"We were on the hill, next to the Forbidden Forest, and we were both hexing and blocking as fast as we could and then… I dunno, I guess we must've stunned each other at the same time and fallen down the hill. I woke up a few hours ago at the bottom of the forest, near the tree line. D- Malfoy was a little ways away. I went up the hill to look for a teacher or somebody… I mean, I didn't want Aragog to get him, even if he is a git…" Harry tried not to look like he was anxious as he felt as they reached the midpoint of the walk. Hermione gnawed on her lower lip thoughtfully, brows furrowed, and Harry prayed that she wasn't remembering some wildly rare fact that would disprove his cover story- or, for that matter, a well-known fact.

Ron rubbed his forehead with one hand, and smiled ruefully. "I wish you could've told us, mate… But I have to say, kicking the ferret's arse is a damn good excuse for disappearing." His grin widened, and Harry felt an answering one spring up on his face.

Hermione huffed to herself. "You two are ridiculous… Harry could've gotten expelled…. What a right mess this turned into…"

"Aw, Hermione, quit muttering and let's get back to Hagrid's. No harm, no foul." Ron's head jerked back to look at Harry. "Or did you hurt him?"

"He gave as good as he got," Harry said mildly as they began to march to their lesson, trying to ignore the blush that was threatening to break out across his face and neck. _Indeed he did…_

* * *

Sirius was shaking. Most of the hot tea splashed onto the counter around the mug he was attempting to pour it into, and he swallowed hard. Withdrawal hadn't plagued him for months, yet all it took was the barest taste of Lucius on his lips- fainter every time, as though the memory was becoming faded with use, like old parchment- and he was a wobbly, panting mess. Carefully setting down the pitcher, Sirius closed his eyes tightly, and leaned heavily on the counter.

The memories teased him slowly- giving the pensive what he had left after the dementors blocked anything joyful meant that all that was left in his head was the places where the memories used to be. Worse than an empty cubbyhole… It was more like there were a series of uniquely shaped locks in his mind, and the absence of the keys was driving him mad. They began as a niggling discomfort before becoming a downright nuisance, and then graduating into a near-painful, all-consuming drive to _remember, _to hold the recollections close and never let them go.

Trying to remember without the Pensive was like grasping at ghosts- unfulfilling, desperate, and distinctly uncomfortable.

Sirius shook his head in irritation, but as he stepped away from the counter to refill the teapot, the floor tilted around him, and he staggered back, dropping the pot with a crash. Grasping at the countertop, Sirius noted with considerable dismay that his legs weren't doing much to hold him up- and the floor was still making its best efforts to drag him down and swallow him whole. The need to remember, to relive, was turning his own heart against him- every pulse sent a pang of agony through him as he ached to remember Lucius' smile, his voice, his eyes-

There was another, louder crash as the front door flew open. Through the pounding in his head- no, throughout his body –he could hear rapid footsteps approaching. Somewhere in the back of his mind, under all of the longing, was a small voice insisting that if whoever was approaching told Dumbledore about his addiction, Dumbledore would likely take away the Pensive. As the footsteps neared, Sirius attempted to step away from the supporting counter, to straighten, to look up- but his body betrayed him, and he slumped back against the counter, slipping down until he landed hard on the linoleum.

"Sirius! I just received a fire-call from Hogwarts. Draco missed an entire day of class, and _your _charge had something to do with it!"

His ears were wrong- they had to be. But could his eyes possibly be wrong, too?

Lucius Malfoy burst through the kitchen door in a whirl of perfectly straight hair and magically pressed, pristine robes. His eyes flashed dangerously as they scanned the room, and his full, pale lips were set in a hard line. For a split second as Sirius stared at the man, standing in the doorway and seeming to glow in the layer of darkness that had always enveloped Sirius' home, the pangs abated.

Then they came crashing back, worse than ever, and Sirius let out a pained whimper as his head gave a vicious throb that sent shards of pain down his spine and black dots swirling in his vision.

Lucius' gaze snapped down to where Sirius was crumpled against the lower cabinets. "Sirius?"

He blinked sluggishly, and in the time it took for him to reopen his eyes, Lucius was bending over him and peering into his eyes with an expression not far from concern.

A breeze from the open door sent Lucius' scent- heady, sweet, sharp, intoxicating- rushing toward Sirius. A lock of platinum-blonde hair brushed Sirius' cheek, and he shuddered at the rush of relief.

Lucius was saying something, something that didn't matter, as Sirius lifted one of his arms with surprising strength and grasped Lucius by the back of the neck, pulling him forward into a kiss that he'd wanted for more than a decade.

His lips were just as smooth and lush as they'd always been, though unyielding from shock. Sirius parted his own slightly, enough to taste Lucius' lower lip- and Oh, Merlin, the taste was the same, too, after all these years-

Lucius pulled away after what must've been a mere second, and Sirius' body sang from the kiss. "Sirius- what-?"

"Please, Lucius, just- please?" Sirius pleaded brokenly, pulling the larger man down again, and then Lucius' lips were back on his, and this time they were moving with his, kissing him back, deeper.

Sirius gasped, tightening his grip on the back of Lucius' neck and shoulders, his mind swimming as Lucius' hand tilted his chin up and the man swept his tongue along Sirius'. Sirius tangled his hand in Lucius' hair- Lucius' beautiful hair- and pulled himself impossibly closer. Somehow, Lucius had fit an arm between the cabinets and Sirius, and was using the leverage to press their torsos together through their clothing.

At some point- maybe when Lucius had darted forwards- he had ended up between Sirius' parted legs. Sirius moaned into the kiss as Lucius lifted him up, pinning him to the cabinet with his body as his hands roamed- the back of Sirius' neck, his ribs, his hip.

Then it was gone.

Sirius fell to the floor with a thump, head spinning as he stared blankly upwards. Lucius was panting hard, looking stricken- his eyes were wild with an unreadable emotion, and his usually pale cheeks were flushed slightly. His mouth opened and closed twice before he shut his jaws tightly, whirled around and stalked out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Sirius sat on the floor, trying to figure out whether or not his mind had resorted to vivid (rather naughty) hallucinations.

* * *

**Oh, so much fun to write! You have no idea.**

**I'll try to update more often, but I'm in the process of transferring documents to a new computer, and I keep going back and forth and emailing myself shit to keep up with myself. Ick.**

**Anyway, I love your reviews! I can't wait to hear what you guys have to say. In the morning. Or possibly the afternoon... XD**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


	19. Chapter 19

**NO WAY! My longest chapter EVER! My GOD am I tired... It's a quarter til' two... But you guys are worth it! :D**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. It's too late at night to be witty. -.-**

**Warnings: Finally, a lemon! You guys will be so happy! Although, I did write it in the wee hours of the morning, so maybe it sucks... **

**Okay, enjoy!**

* * *

Harry scraped through the rest of the day in a cyclone of anxious questions (from his classmates) and slightly intrigued looks (from his teachers). Their afternoon class was Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, something that Harry felt was incredibly unfair, due to the fact that Professor Sprout blushed heartily every time she so much as looked in his general direction. As a result, Harry spent the majority of the class period trying very hard not to think about anything that had to do with the past few days. This was a rather unfortunate challenge, because everywhere he looked were exotic plants.

Their task for that day was to collect the leaves, venom, and sap from the Brougasbaugh bush- a vile plant which looked like a thornless rosebush, only the roses had teeth. Sharp teeth.

Ron swore heartily as a rosebud the size of a Knut darted forward and bit him on the elbow, above the protection of his dragon-hide gloves. Professor Sprout heard the curse and started towards them with a reproving look on her round face, but stopped short when she caught Harry's eye. She turned quickly, glowing red, and instead hustled over to where Neville was trying to show one of the Patil twins the right way to snip the leaves of their bush.

Hermione was talking worriedly about the work Harry had missed- apparently, he had been absent for a critical History of Magic class in which Professor Binns described the house elf uprisings of 1023.

Unfortunately, thinking of house elves made Harry think of Dobby, and thinking of Dobby made Harry think of Dobby seeing Harry in bed with Draco, and thinking of Dobby seeing them made Harry think about _being_ in bed with Draco, and therefore he was completely unprepared when a particularly aggressive rose darted forward and bit him on the ear.

Several minutes of bellowing and chaos followed. Harry stumbled backwards, trying to nip it in the bud with his pruning shears, and tumbled into Seamus, who tipped headfirst into his bush. Hermione tried to slice the vine, which was still clinging to Harry's ear, with what would've been a nicely aimed spell had their plant not decided that Ron was a problem that needed to be dealt with immediately. Ron crashed into Hermione, knocking her to the floor, and her spell smashed a jar of puffapod beans, which sprang eagerly into the thin layer of dirt on the greenhouse floor and began to sprout.

Several exhausting and painful minutes later, Harry found himself sitting beside Ron on a bench outside the greenhouse, each pressing their bites with a cloth soaked in a salve that smelled like licorice. Seamus and a few others were sitting a little farther away, tending their own bites and occasionally sending Harry a dirty look. Professor Sprout had utilized the other students to assist her in cleaning the greenhouse.

"Bloody plants," Harry growled to himself. "Why can't they leave me the fuck alone?"

"I hear you, mate," Ron grumbled, and Harry struggled not to roll his eyes and shout, _No, you don't! _Ron shifted his bandage with a wince before abruptly snorting to himself.

Harry glanced over, eyebrows raised.

"As twisted as this sounds, I was just wishing that we had more classes with the Slytherins. Wouldn't know like to see Malfoy trying to wrestle one of those loony viney things?" He chortled to himself, shaking his head.

Harry felt like the universe was also having a good laugh right about now.

* * *

By the time dinner was approaching, Harry and Ron's bites had stopped throbbing and bleeding, and the skin surrounding the punctures was no longer a curious purple color. The clouds Harry had noticed earlier in the day had been darkening for hours, and even though it was barely seven o'clock, the grounds were cast in deep shadows of black and blue, nearing the impenetrable cover of night. As the trio made their way from the courtyard to the great hall, their breaths came out in puffs of white vapor.

"It'll snow soon," Hermione said, casting a glance over her shoulder for a final look at the sky behind them. "I wonder if Hagrid's Jobberknolls will be bothered by the cold weather."

"Since when had Hagrid let anything of his suffer? Even when he honestly should…" Ron rolled his eyes.

In their earlier lesson, Hagrid had split them into groups of four and given them each a small cage with an even smaller bird inside. Each was a deep blue color, with black speckles on the tips of their wings. Hagrid also gave them each a small tin of insects, most (though not all) of which were dead, to feed to the Jobberknoll. Hagrid then spent a few minutes telling them about the odd little bird. It was soundless until the moment of its death, when it lets out a long scream composed of every sound it had ever heard, backwards. Hagrid then instructed them to spend the rest of the class talking to the bird, so that it would have something interesting to say (backwards) on the day it died. After muttering about how morbid it was, the three of them (and Neville) spoke to the bird about nothing in particular. It was an odd little thing- it cocked its head to the side whenever one of them spoke, as if it were bemused that Ron was rambling about the Chudley Cannons, and yet its shiny black eyes seemed to hold a tired sort of wisdom.

Hermione had been enraptured by the tiny creature after it had hopped straight into her hand when Hagrid finally allowed them to open the cage. She murmured something about keeping it until a disbelieving Ron reminded her that she owned a large, aggressive feline.

Making their way to the great hall, Harry felt a moment of nerves. Maybe it was that his ear smelled like licorice, or that he hadn't gotten a chance to brush his hair at all today, but he felt very unworthy all of a sudden, and he worried that the second he walked through the door and into the great hall, he would be assaulted by whispers, stares, and ridicule from the Slytherin table.

"Harry? Are you coming?" Hermione paused in the doorway, her clever eyes scouring his face, which had no doubt lost all of its color, for any clue to his strange behavior.

He forced a small smile. "Yeah, just thinking."

And so he followed Hermione into the hall, keeping his eyes downcast until he reached his seat. Only then did he dare to look up and around. The Slytherins who flanked Draco Malfoy were sending him dirty looks, and pressing closer to their leader. Draco's face was a mask of cold distaste that nearly made Harry flinch at the intensity, until he saw one side of Draco's mouth quirk up slightly in reassurance. Of course- it wasn't as if Draco could great him with the dazzling smile that Harry had grown accustomed to. Harry mentally shook himself and put on a façade of his own.

"Look at the Slytherin table. It would appear that Malfoy has spread the word of our duel." Ron and Hermione each glanced to the distant table and away, eyes narrowing.

"What a slimy git," Ron growled, and for once, Hermione didn't send him a reproving look.

"Just ignore him, Harry. He's not worth the trouble." She stated calmly, though she stabbed a roll with her fork much harder than necessary to bring it to her plate.

The conversation drifted from Draco, and Harry kept his head down as he ate, trying to avoid the urge to attempt to flatten his hair with his hand as he repeatedly felt a familiar gaze on him.

At the end of the meal, Dumbledore stood and raised his hands for silence as the dishes were magically cleared. He cleared his throat once. "Students, a momentary word before you retire to your respective common rooms. It has come to my attention once again that the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is no longer safe for students to wander it. Therefore, from now on, it will be regarded as a restricted area, so long as you don't wish to become… ensnared …by a terrible fate." He let his words hang in the air as his students turned to one another, speculating of what the "terrible fate" entailed. Harry wanted to die, right then and there, and from the look in Draco's eyes, he wasn't alone in his wish. Up at the podium, Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "But as long as no one ventures into the corridor, you have nothing to fear. Now, I wish you all a good night, and pleasant dreams."

Harry stumbled blindly behind Ron and Hermione as they made their way to the common room, barely aware of their discussion of the sudden restriction.

"Well, Harry," Hermione said decisively as they crossed the portrait hole into the common room. "If you're to be caught up on your schoolwork, you'll be needing our help. Unless, of course, you managed to finish your potions essay while stupefied."

Harry scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, beginning to feel the effects of not getting a solid night's sleep the previous night. "Right, sure. Let me just get the textbook from the dorm."

"Grab mine, too, won't you?" Ron asked, flopping down on the couch with a contented sigh.

Harry made his way up the stairs to the foot of his bed, where he plucked his potions book from the debris that made up the top layer of his trunk. Glancing over at Ron's trunk, he grumbled meaninglessly- mostly to himself, but partially to the seemingly endless clutter that spilled from the top of Ron's trunk.

As if in answer to his silent prayers, Hedwig swooped in through the open window to his bedside table, where she shook herself once in a flutter of feathers before offering him her leg.

Attached was a note, saying:

_Harry,_

_To access the passageway, walk to the north side of the tower and tap the wall with your wand- somewhere around eye level should work fine. As you tap it, speak the incantation, "_Dissaeus Foutatus._" The passage should open soundlessly._

_Be sure to do this with the utmost discretion. Although the passage has magical properties, and cannot be detected by any charm, you can still be seen by your fellows. Perhaps this calls for the use of your father's gift? In any case, I have sent a similar letter to Mr. Malfoy. The two of you should likely meet tonight. I find that midnight is often a pleasant time for a rendezvous. Though some planning is requested, I suppose I would be satisfied if all I learn in your morning owl is that you dislike the furnishings._

_The best of luck to you both._

It was unsigned, but by the time Harry had read the brief letter, a signature would've been slightly redundant.

Harry checked his watch: it was a quarter to nine. There was no way he would be able to focus on schoolwork until midnight, but unless he wanted his grades to suffer, he didn't have much of a choice. So after locating Ron's book (under a disturbingly fuzzy chocolate frog) he trundled down the stairs to burn three hours of homework.

* * *

At quarter-past eleven, Hermione called in a night with a yawn. After wishing her good night, Harry and Ron went upstairs to their dorms, leaving Hermione to gather her books and do the same. Ron fell into bed almost immediately, pulling his drapes closed with a tired mumble. Everyone else was in bed, presumably asleep, but even so, Harry took his time preparing- checking the compass on the Marauder's map to make sure he knew which way was North, and whispering the incantation to himself until he was sure it was just right. To his own slight embarrassment, he realized that he hadn't washed since the final bath in the Room of Requirement. After a moment of hesitation, he picked a pair of clean pajamas out of his trunk and tiptoed to the Gryffindor washrooms- thankful that there was a shortcut from the dormitories. After the fastest, most thorough shower of his life (In which he scrubbed his Brougasbaugh bite with lilac soap until it no longer smelled like licorice), Harry hurried back to the dark, silent dorm.

At ten 'till midnight, Harry slid the cloak over his head and prepared to leave. He paused briefly to close the drapes around his bed- he didn't want Ron to wake up and see his empty bed.

Approaching the north wall (nearest to Neville's bed) he lifted his cloak so that his wand hand was revealed, and tapped the wall once, breathing the spell, "_Dissaeus Foutatus._"

An entire portion of the wall seemed to fall away under the touch of his wand, showing a narrow staircase dripping with shadows. Swallowing his nerves, Harry stepped forward, into the confined space. He waited until the wall folded back into place before lighting his wand, and beginning down the stairway.

It seemed to go on forever, curling sharply out of sight. The stones were ancient looking, yet much less work than the rest of the castle. The corridor had almost certainly been used rarely, for the stone to be in such good shape, but the downsides to this were excessive cobwebs and a lack of a banister.

A solid quarter of an hour later, Harry reached a waist-high, round hole in the wall, approximately the size of a barrel lid. It was sort of like the entrance to the common room, only smaller. Harry pushed on it cautiously, relieved when it swung open easily.

Poking his head through, he saw a room slightly smaller than the charms classroom, furnished in astonishing amounts of black and silver. There was a tea set (silver) on a low marble table (black) sitting in front of a large couch covered in velvet (black) with intricate detailing on the legs and frame (silver). The carpeting was old, but obviously plush, from the look of it, and matching the tapestries that cover the walls (both black, with silver knot-like designs). There was an enormous, (silver) framed mirror to one side, almost covering the entire wall. The room was lit dimly by a crackling fire that the sofa faced. This, obviously, was not silver, although the mantle was made of the same marble as the coffee table.

To Harry's embarrassment, there was also a newer-looking, king-size, four-poster bed. It, like the rest of the décor, was done on black and silver: silver frame, black covers and (from what Harry could see, at his awkward angle) black sheet, all covered in a generous helping of black plush pillows with silver trim.

There were only two things in the room that didn't fit: one was a (silver) bowl of brilliantly red cherries next to the tea set. The other was a wonderfully familiar person, dressed in Slytherin green pajamas.

Harry smiled broadly, a feeling of jelly-like relief settling in his belly. "Draco," he exclaimed, pulling himself through the hole in the wall.

Draco lifted his blonde head, a cherry halfway to his lips, looking momentarily stunned to abruptly see Harry's head poking through the wall. Then his reddened lips spread in a broad, delighted grin that made Harry's breath catch, and he stood quickly to help Harry avoid an extra-close look at the carpeting.

After a bit of tugging, Harry was extricated from the wall, and found himself abruptly close to Draco. Any witty comment that he had previously possessed vanished completely from his head, leaving him with a rather breathless, "Hi."

"Hi," Draco responded quietly, before leaning down slightly and pressing his lips to Harry's.

Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he sighed in contentment, pressing closer to Draco and sliding his hands from Draco's upper arms to his silky hair, and his shoulder.

In turn, Draco tightened his grip, pulling Harry close, and took Harry's lower lip between his to gently nibble and tease. One of his hands splayed at the small of Harry's back, the other threading in the downy hair at the base of Harry's neck. With a shiver, Harry opened his mouth, silently asking for more. Draco indulged him briefly, stroking Harry's tongue with his own before pulling back with a regretful look.

"We should sit. Talk."

Harry resisted the urge to ask _Why? _and instead allowed himself to be led to the lush sofa. Draco nestled himself in the corner of the couch closer to the tea set before opening his arms. Imprinting the image of Draco beckoning him to his lap into his mind forever, Harry sank into the fold, leaning against the back of the couch so he could look into Draco's eyes. They were soft, and decidedly happy as they roamed over Harry's face.

"Cherry?" Draco surprised him by asking, offering him a pitted fruit. It wasn't the daintiest transfer of food, but as Harry licked the remaining juice from the tips of Draco's fingers, he wouldn't have asked for anything different. The blonde's eyes smoldered for a few moments, locked with Harry's own, before he smiled, and offered another.

So as not to be completely ignorant of their pressing situations, Draco gave Harry the basic events of how he'd told the Slytherins about his absence. Apparently, all he needed to do was sell the same basic story that Harry himself had, while scoffing about Harry's goody-goody attitude, and everyone bought it. Everyone, that is, but Snape.

"He might contact my father- especially if he thinks you're involved. Although, I didn't really lose any points, so maybe he won't…"

Harry shrugged. "Well, even if he does, we can always hide in this place. Eating cherries endlessly," he added with a small smile, feeling unbearably naughty as he took the next offering in his teeth, before returning to clean the pads of his fingers.

"True," Draco murmured, swooping in to kiss away a droplet of juice at the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry turned his head slightly, asking for another kiss, but Draco's lips wandered instead across Harry's cheek, to his jaw, then his throat, alternating between running his lips over the expanse of skin, and using his teeth and tongue to try to mark the delicate skin. Before long, Harry was struggling to breathe normally, and shifting slightly on Draco's lap.

Without warning, Draco shifted their position- now his back was pressed against the armrest, and Harry was straddling his hips.

Harry intercepted Draco's return to his neck, capturing his lips with his own instead. His breathing became downright unsteady as Draco's hands slid slowly from his shoulders, moving steadily down, and their lips meshed together again and again.

Draco's hands abruptly skipped a large section of his lower back to squeeze and knead Harry's ass, and the Gryffindor let out a moan as his erection pressed against Draco's through the thin fabric of their pajama pants.

This time, he broke the kiss, struggling to be coherent as Draco massaged his butt. "T-the bed, now."

Harry wasn't entirely sure how they made it, as entangled as they were, but in moments he fell into the center of the bed, supported by the mound of pillows as Draco attacked his clothing. First his shirt, then his pants were being tossed carelessly over Draco's shoulder, before Draco straightened and pulled off his own shirt, adding it to the growing pile on the floor. Harry tugged at the pants, but Draco halted his progress to retrieve a small bottle from one of the front pockets. With a maddening smirk at Harry's blush, Draco proceeded to remove the pants himself, and cover Harry with his body, setting the lube aside for the time being.

Harry wrapped his legs around Draco's hips and reattached his lips to the blonde's. Draco's hand's returned to Harry's ass, rubbing the heated flesh and using the leverage to grind them together. The pleasure made Harry groan, and he bucked his hips upwards, trying to get more friction. His hands had made it their personal goal to touch every inch of Draco's body, and they roamed freely over his back, and through his hair.

Draco was kissing him hard, running his tongue over Harry's own tongue and teeth. Harry kissed back with equal vigor, but it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate as Draco's fingers inched their way to his entrance. As the first fingertip stroked his cleft, he pulled back with a gasp. "Just get the lube already, for Merlin's sake," He panted, trying not to look put out as Draco's lovely warmth and weight vanished from his chest.

The Slytherin shuffled back slightly, uncapping the bottle and squeezing a healthy dollop onto his fingers. Then his gaze fell on Harry, legs still splayed and mouth open and red, and he paused, taking in the sight.

Too late, Harry realized how utterly open he was, and he tried to close his thighs. Draco seized his legs, pulling one to the side, and the other over his shoulder, not even bothering to hide his appreciation. Harry shivered and blushed at the thought of how they must look- partially in mortification, but partially in renewed arousal. He met Draco's hungry, warm gaze as the first slick finger nudged its way inside, letting out a shaky breath. He hadn't been as sore today, and the intrusion was feeling less and less like an intrusion. Draco pushed his finger in and out slowly, eyes fixed on Harry's face as he added another. The digits curled and scissored slowly, thoroughly lubricating his insides.

They had done this before- lots of times, in fact –but this was by far the most intimate they had ever been. Draco's face was set in breathless concentration, his eyes flicking from his fingers to Harry's face with a combination of the utmost care, and the deepest desire. Harry watched him with an odd warmth in his chest, his breath snagging every time Draco's gaze met his- and it only had a little to do with the fingers.

As Draco added a third, Harry's hands clutched the topmost cover at the feeling, shuddering at the slow burn of the stretch, fire running in his veins as the heat rolled through him. His head tipped back into the pillows and he bit his lip as Draco pushed the trio in as far as they would go. They weren't in as deep as Draco's cock would be, but it was still beginning to satisfy the undeniable _ache_ he had to be filled.

Then they were gone. Harry gasped as Draco gently pulled his legs wider still, aligning the head of his slicked cock with Harry's entrance. He leaned forward slightly to reach where Draco braced one hand against his hip, and threaded his fingers with Draco's. The Slytherin gave him a kind smile, pushing in slowly for a few seconds before suddenly plunging in the remainder of the way.

Harry shouted out, his back arching and his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as his muscled clenched against the sudden entrance. His chest heaved as he fought for breath, though there was surprisingly little pain- just a sensory overload as he adjusted to Draco's size.

"Bloody…" Harry gasped for breath, meeting Draco's innocent gaze. "No, no, I'm fine, go on…"

Draco was in no position to question Harry's judgment. He pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back in, making any breath Harry had regained leave him once more in a sharp cry. This time, Draco rammed into his prostate, making Harry tremble as he set a steady pace, pummeling the spot. The pleasure threatened to drown Harry, and he panted heavily, shifting his leg from Draco's shoulder to his waist to pull him closer. Draco went impossibly deeper, causing Harry to moan just as Draco molded their lips together.

Clutching Draco's shoulders, Harry began to meet the thrusts, Draco catching his whimpers on his tongue every time Draco hit his prostate with unerring accuracy. That, combined with the friction of Harry's erection on Draco's stomach, was enough to send him over the edge with a particularly hard thrust.

Pleasure swept through him in waves as he came hard, spilling white over Draco's abs. He let out a long, deep moan as he shook from the force of it. He felt a few more thrusts before Draco came inside him, sending a last, weak shudder of pleasure through Harry's body.

Harry sank into the cushions, feeling exhausted and content with Draco's warmth on top of him. The last thing he saw before he drifted off was the reflection of the twined, pale, silvery bodies reflected in the mirror.

* * *

**BTW, that room is my ideal living area. Including the two wizards. Just saying. :)**

**The more reviews I get, the faster I'll write! Of this I am certain. )**

**Love you guys! Thanks for reading!**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey, guys! I really want to just get this chapter OUT THERE, because it has a lot of internal thoughts, and motives, and is VERY VERY VERY important.**

**Harry, Draco, Sirius, and Lucius are undoubtedly my favorite characters, and I want them to be happy. And if being happy means I have to tweak them to make them compatible, then so help me God, I will tweak them like they have never been tweaked before!**

**Anyway, I am sorry that I took forever on this. But I've been doing some MAJOR thinking and planning, and I realized that this story will actually have three parts. This is just the into, to get things rolling (in the hay) and from there, things will turn AWESOME. So, be on the lookout after this story ends, because this 'verse is FAR from over. Also, I've been re-reading some of my favorite stories for inspiration, which include a DELICIOUS Lucius/Harry story called Speechless, and also the sequel. So, of course, the naughty voice in my head spoke up. This is how that mental conversation went:**

Naughty: Well, maybe we could just-

Common sense: No.

Naughty: But we would only need to-

Common sense: No.

Naughty: But think of the _sex!_

Common sense: ... Maybe we'll so a separate story later on ...

Naughty: YES! *fistpump*

**Sigh... Yes, even my common sense inner voice is swayed by a hot yaoi pairing.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. However, I've taken to sneaking up behind J.K. Rowling whenever she's holding a piece of paper, snatching it up, and running away in the hopes that they are her contract for the rights to Harry Potter. So far I've got four newspapers, a phone bill, five restaurant menus, and a postcard from someone named Bill in Nepal. **

**Warnings: SMUT! WHOO-HOO!**

**Anyway, enough of my meaningless drivel. Enjoy! And be sure to check the author's note at the bottom, too. :)**

* * *

Sirius sat in his chair at the head of his empty dining room table, staring at the time-softened wood as he thought, hard. Trying to puzzle through Lucius' motives was out of the question. Instead, he thought about Harry.

There was no comprehensible reason why Harry would involve himself with the Lucius' son. As far as he knew, the two boys despised one another. Sirius had never heard a remotely positive comment about Draco Malfoy pass Harry, Ron, or Hermione's lips.

Brushing a hand through his too-long hair, Sirius sighed heavily. He had an unshakable suspicion that Dumbledore knew more than he let on, which irritated him to no end. Harry was _his _charge- if anyone deserved to know what was going on, it was him, and yet he was in the dark yet again. Especially when it involved Lucius'- no, a _Death Eater's _child. What if he was in danger from this boy?

A surge of fury was gathering behind his ribcage. Harry was the only family he had left- the only true family, anyway- and he was _not _about to bloody sit in his kitchen, idly twiddling his thumbs and waiting for news. Especially if _Lucius Malfoy _was involved, which he certainly must be- why else would Harry engage with the Malfoy boy if he were not charmed, threatened, or otherwise being forced against his will?

An ugly little voice in the back of his mind hissed, _Perhaps for the same reasons _you _did_, but rather than getting caught up in the past (for the umpteenth time), he stood up so fast his chair toppled over and strode to the large cabinet to the left of the stove. In the bottom right-hand drawer were some quills, ink, parchment, and envelopes.

Not the most fearsome weapons, but they would have to do.

Gathering the materials, Sirius threw his chair back into its upright position and flung himself into it, setting the various correspondence-related items on the table with a calm decisiveness that defied his internal fuming. He thought to himself for a moment or two before inking his quill and writing hurriedly. The few lines were a far cry from his best penmanship, but they would have to do.

Sirius stuffed the paper into an envelope, and sealed it. Then, after addressing it carefully, he touched the tip of his wand to the paper, focusing on the rage rushing through his veins. Momentarily, a gradually growing, rather blotchy spot of red appeared, centered where his wand touched the paper. Sirius furrowed his brow and the red spread faster, and intensified rapidly. When every visible inch was drenched in vivid scarlet, he took his wand away from the envelope. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands to examine every inch, and smiled in grim satisfaction as a trickle of smoke rose from a small unsealed patch of the folded paper.

Cradling it in his hands, Sirius made his way to the top floor, where his emergency owl resided. It hooted drowsily as he stroked it, and after a moment, extended its beak to receive the letter. Though Sirius felt a slight wavering in his resolve, he didn't hesitate as he placed the top edge of the letter in the owl's beak. He was too angry to back down.

He watched the owl as it flapped off into the distance, envelope grasped firmly as it swooped over rooftops and vanished into the hodgepodge of buildings that made up the city's white-collar district. Sirius marched downstairs to put on some tea. He never had gotten around to making that replacement pot he had planned to brew.

Plus, he might need an additional weapon when Lucius showed up, as he was bound to.

Lucius was utterly perplexed. He was pacing in his study, a habit he despised because of its indication of nerves, and weakness, but one that he still fell back on when there were far too many thoughts chasing one another around the inside of his head. He wasn't sure which to give his considerable focus, and therefore, he was at a loss.

Turning sharply, he sat in one of the armchairs that faced his desk. They weren't nearly as comfortable as his own, which had numerous charms regulating everything about it, right down to the temperature of the Argentine leather. Though he had perfected it, he found it better for lounging, or doing paperwork, or plotting some political strategy or another. The one he was perched in at the moment was better for serious thinking.

He had been perfectly content to be irritated about Draco's missed classes, in a year so vital to next year's N.E.W.T.s, without the added variable of Harry Potter. That had been rather unexpected- since when did his son's schoolyard rivalry take precedence over his studies? He had been very clear that these years would be crucial for Draco's future- after all, his son had been primed for political strategy ever since he received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Going into Slytherin wasn't an endeavor to be taken on blindly- in order for his son to not be ripped apart by his fellow first years and upperclassmen, he would have to don the mask that all Malfoys had to put on at the point in their lives when being childishly innocent was no longer an option.

It had pained him, seeing his once-happy son turned cold and calculating so much of the time, but it was necessary: in the day and age that he lived in, protecting his family came above all else. Among other things, that meant teaching Draco to fend for himself, to thrive in the world and make it bend to his will, by learning the do's and don'ts of being a Malfoy. From lessons like what gestures not to make when they visited India, to teaching him what to say when surrounded by superiors (most recently, the Dark Lord- Lucius shuddered to think what could have happened had Draco not paid attention in _that _lesson), to the art of the infamous mask of Malfoy disdain, Lucius took extreme precautions to prepare Draco for the future.

This included an insistence of behaving while on school property.

Of course, Lucius wasn't against Draco's treatment of the Potter boy; if he were to treat Harry Potter any differently than he did, the Dark Lord would question his loyalty. (And the Dark Lord was not to be trifled with, not while Lucius and his family had nowhere else to go. It was a matter that troubled him late at night, nearly every night; Voldemort's greed for power, and his obsession with Harry Potter's death were leading him to greater heights of madness. Lucius feared for his family- he had certainly seen enough Death Eaters slain over poor reports of just about anything. Lucius couldn't find a way out. And it wasn't likely that Dumbledore was planning on handing him a personal invitation to the "good" side.)

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to recall what had come over him after Snape's fire-call. He had been furious, convinced that Draco had been led astray by the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, and appalled to hear that nothing was being done to punish Potter. Snape's obvious irritation with this fact did not quench his anger.

It could've been that this infraction, combined with the stress of the growing problems with Voldemort, just pushed him over the edge. But Lucius curled his lip at this thought- Malfoys did _not _have breakdowns.

It didn't explain what he did next, though.

Apparating to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, was one of the least thought-out, most reckless, stupid things that Lucius had ever done in his _life_. It seemed to pale, however, when compared to the act that immediately followed: kissing Sirius.

Lucius had no words to explain it- he had sighted Sirius on the floor, something obviously wrong with him, and all of his anger had been stuffed into a bag and thrown into the farthest depths of his mind. All that mattered was the fact that Sirius was hurt, or something similar. The last thing he expected the smaller man to do when he leaned over was to kiss him; the last thing he expected _himself_ to do was nearly snog the life out of the man.

Even thinking about it from the safety of his own office, Lucius felt stricken, horrified, guilty… aroused.

All of these thoughts circled his mind like vultures, leaving Lucius with a headache as he tried to pick a problem to try and fix first. He rubbed his temple angrily, frustrated with himself for being so easily thrown off-kilter.

And it was then when through the open window came an owl.

Lucius could only stare as the creature dove inside, dropped the scarlet envelope neatly in his lap, and turned to exit the window without missing a beat. His momentary shock cost him precious seconds as the envelope began to smoke, and he only had time to cast a rapid silencing charm around him and throw the letter to the floor before it exploded rather thoroughly, launching itself into the air, screaming:

"_**IF YOU THINK YOU CAN BARGE IN AND OUT OF MY HOME LIKE A BLOODY KING, AND ACCUSE MY GODSON OF SOMETHING HE DID NOT DO,THEN YOU ARE **__**THOROUGHLY**__** MISTAKEN. DO NOT EVEN **__**THINK**__** ABOUT COMING BACK UNLESS YOU WISH TO BE HEXED INTO FEBRUARY."**_

The letter paused here, tilting slightly, and then said in what could likely qualify as _sarcasm_,

"_**Sincerely,**_

_**Sirius Black."**_

Then the letter dropped to the floor and shriveled up before Lucius' astonished gaze, until it was nothing but a small pile of ash.

Lucius sat quite still for a moment, replaying the words in his mind, and growing steadily angry. He stood up abruptly, summoning his traveling cloak from the rack on the far wall and vanishing the remains of the howler in the same breath. Stowing his wand in his sleeve rather than his usual cane, Lucius tugged his cloak on roughly.

"Black's in for it this time," He muttered to himself, eyes narrowed, as he stormed from his office and down the long hallway to the front entrance. It was a small miracle that Narcissa was out of the house- she had told him delicately, by way of a brief note that had zoomed into his study a half-hour earlier, that she was off to a friend's for advice on some silly thing like a hat. If she had caught even the slightest glimpse of him tearing out of the mansion, she'd have stopped him right then and there and ask for an explanation for his thinly-veiled fury.

As is was, he took a sharp turn into the foyer and strode out through the grand front door without interruption. As soon as his feet touched the marble stairs leading up to the entrance, he turned on the spot, falling back on years of practice to land on the topmost step in front of Grimmauld Place.

Lucius wrenched the door open without pause, and stormed inside.

Shadows, that was his first thought: the place was drenched in them, as if someone had upended a well of too-thin ink over the entire house and not bothered to sponge it up. Perhaps he had been too single-minded in taking the House of Black by storm the previous day to notice.

He wasn't much better right now- honestly, he was just having a terrible week.

Without thinking about it, he knew that Sirius was in the kitchen, same as before. Lucius stalked through the eerily quiet halls, trying to divert his thoughts from the way the house used to be: dark only in mood, while practically glowing from constant care. Things were almost as complicated then as they were now.

Lucius took a final breath as he took his final step to the closed door, summoning the anger that had driven him here. He would be no good in a fight if he was caught up in the past.

Using his considerable momentum, Lucius brought the door open with a spectacular crash as he entered the kitchen. Sirius was pouring tea into two cups unflinchingly, without spilling a drop, as though Lucius had opened the door gently and eased himself in rather than barging his way into the kitchen. He glanced up, and Lucius was pleased to see a spark of annoyance in his eyes as they met his.

Still, he went on pouring the tea, not making any move to reach for his wand. Lucius crossed his arms, waiting. Blacks were only ever silent if they had something important to say.

"Honestly, Lucius, I remember you being better at following directions," Sirius said in a calm voice tinged with threads of amusement and annoyance, his eyes never leaving the sugar he was spooning.

Lucius' eyes widened a fraction at the immediate reference to the past, however innocent. They had mutually realized early on in the aftermath of their separation that any mention of the past from one to another was a ticking time bomb. Lucius was thankful for the endless practice of his voice- even now, as he was close to trembling with a dreadful cocktail of anger and shock, it came out clear and steady and icy.

"That was not a sheet of directions, Sirius. That was a challenge." After an indiscernible hesitation, "I've known you too long to not know the difference." _Just like I've known you long enough to know that even though you _look _unruffled, your shoulders just tensed- I got through that thick Gryffindor skull of yours._

But instead of doing anything that Lucius had mentally predicted (ie: cursed him, shouted at him, thrown the pot of scalding tea at his head, hell, even _glare _at him) Sirius set the teapot down, and offered him a china cup with the Black family crest on it.

Despite his lingering anger, Lucius found himself slightly amused at Sirius' lack of retaliation. The self-righteous eighteen-year-old he had seduced would've been brimming with fiery retorts- and possibly still was, if Sirius' clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Lucius accepted the teacup with a questioning look to the man in question, and also to gauge his condition. Azkaban had not been a walk in the park- though Sirius was quite a bit like his former self, he was on the brink of _too _slim, and his movements had a brittle quality, as if he wasn't entirely sure that picking up his own cup would leave him intact. Though Lucius had vowed after their separation that he would bury any remotely positive feelings that he harbored towards Black, his gut wrenched unpleasantly- as it had many times before- at the thought of Sirius in Azkaban.

"Why are you here, Lucius?" Sirius said abruptly, distracting Lucius from the careful examination he was giving the surface of the tea.

Mentally shaking himself free of the past, Lucius sniffed his tea carefully, and took a wary sip before straightening and giving Sirius the haughty look that they both despised. "Because I do not like being told what to do. And because Severus Snape passed on the tip that Potter was partially responsible for Draco missing class, if not entirely so."

Sirius reacted oddly: his knuckles whitened on the handle of the teacup; his eyes widened perceptibly; his throat convulsed as if had had swallowed, hard.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at the tiny tell-tale motions. They pointed to one thing; Sirius knowing more about this than he was letting on. Not that he was letting on to much in the first place…

"If this is some ridiculous attempt to get Harry into trouble, then I must say, your planning skills have become flawed. Getting Harry expelled will not leave him vulnerable." Sirius spoke the words with an odd stern-ness that contradicted his slightly fidgety demeanor.

Lucius processed the words, his brows raising even farther. "You think-? No, that is not it at all. I am angry and concerned about my son's behavior, and your godson's involvement." A small smirk played on Lucius' lips. "Are you not concerned about _your _charge?"

Sirius bristled, making no attempt this time to hide his resentment at the remark. "How could you even suggest that to me? Harry is more important that anything. _Anything. _Don't you _dare _suggest anything to the contrary. In fact, such a thing is _ridiculous _coming from you: the king of ice, leading a royal family of bloody frost and snow, treating a display of affection as anathema to your _perfect_ guise-"

Lucius' cup clattered to the floor with a dainty tinkle, which couldn't have been farther from the mood in the room. In seconds, the temperature had dipped ten degrees as the amusement in Lucius' face vanished faster than a seeker who'd spotted the snitch. His face was the opposite of icy- it blazed with fury, his usually cool-gray eyes burning in barely suppressed rage as he strode forward until he was in Sirius' face. "Don't you _ever _say that," He snarled. "You don't know family, you don't know me, and you have _no right _to try to judge-"

"You're right," Sirius snapped. "I _don't _know you. In the past sixteen years, you've finally reached your potential for turning into the cruelest, coldest, most self-righteous bastard that the wizarding world has ever seen! The way you _strut _around, parading your perfect life, your perfect family to the people who've lost so much-"

"Stop acting as if you know what you're talking about!" Lucius threw back, "You think that just because you _see _something, you know its story. You don't know my motives, you couldn't _possibly _know why I do the things that I do- you couldn't _possibly _understand, so don't even _try_-"

Sirius shoved Lucius away, out of his face, a terrible scowl on his handsome face. "Of course, my mistake- I forgot that _you _are the misunderstood one in this situation, what with all of your money and power and your undeniable _disdain _for the rest of us non-Death Eaters."

Lucius radiated ire, but stayed silently fuming where he stood as Sirius took a deep breath and straightened. "Just leave, Lucius. Just get out, and we'll deal with our boys separately."

"No."

Sirius looked baffled- another abrupt change in demeanor. Lucius took a moment to let his head clear, breathing deeply as his heart rate slowed and his temper was reigned in. "I'm not going anywhere. You know something about what happened to Draco, and Harry, and you're daft if you think that I'll just forget why I came here, and walk out because we suddenly decided to act half our ages. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to tell me what you know about what happened the day before yesterday."

He sat down fluidly, and paused for a moment before asking, "Would you mind pouring me another cup of tea? The first one was a tad _bitter._"

Sirius' jaw clenched at the implication, and the pair exchanged a long, loaded look. Lucius knew he was playing with fire, provoking Sirius like this, but at the same time he was still frustrated with the man for kissing him the previous day without explanation, and for being so purposely vindictive in their argument.

But the incident passed without any more harsh words, and soon they were both sitting with fresh cups of tea before them. Sirius seemed slightly put out that Lucius had been the one to angle their fight towards something productive and rational, but once the shouting stopped, the two of them were able to fall into old patterns: Sirius sat at the head of the table, with Lucius on his right; Lucius pulled the milk and sugar closer to them and tapped each with his wand, directing the administering of each substance (a quick splash of milk and three spoonfuls of sugar for Sirius, two spoonfuls of sugar for Lucius). Although the patterns were comforting, there was an underlying edge of tension, of awkwardness- it had been years since either of them had gone through these motions, and they had been on much better terms then. The words from the row lingering in the air, nor did the fact that yesterday's kiss was lingering at the edges of Lucius' mind did not help the uncomfortable situation.

He was doing it for Draco, he told himself, but at the same time, he felt almost… _shy _as the two of them settled in for a long chat.

"So," Lucius began, causing Sirius' eyes to flick up to his, and then back to his mostly-full teacup. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

Sirius kept his eyes locked on his drink, and a light blush stained his cheeks. "Well," He began slowly. "I'm not exactly sure how to say it."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Come, now. Where's that Gryffindor courage you always boast of? Just tell me what you know, and I'll pass on what I heard from Severus."

The mention of his nemesis didn't shake the dark-haired man, and for the first time, Lucius felt a pang of actual worry. He did his best to keep it out of his tone, mostly succeeding, as he said, "Tell me. Get it over with, before you over think it."

Sirius looked up at last, looking positively mortified. "Harry knows about us. And I'm almost positive that Draco knows, too."

* * *

**Ah, yes, a lovely cliffie. Sorry that this one had no Drarry- I want to make Lucius and Sirius a bigger part of the story, and I can't do that if all I write for them are senseless make-out sessions randomly flung in alongside the Drarry.**

**OKAY, so part of my intense planning session involved people who _know. _I love it when characters are supportive, but I'm trying to be at least a teeny tiny bit realistic, so obviously not everyone will be gushy and overjoyed. So in order to get some input on this, I'm going to set up my very first poll. With some people I have a pretty good idea of how I want them to react, but I might change my mind if an overwhelming majority votes the other way. Also, if someone has a good idea of a specific situation, feel free to request it. Even if I don't put it in the story, I might consider making a separate story for the "outtakes." I've already got some stuff, but If I get three irresistible propts with Ginny Weasley finding out, I'll put them in, too.**

**So, what are you waiting for? Go for it!**

**But first... you know, the review button is a wonderful thing... Every time someone sends me one, I write a little faster... ;)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey, guys! Sorry about the wait, but for once, it's not my fault! I haven't had power for days, and my generator finally started working again! HOORAY!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine (YET! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)**

**Warning: No smut in this chapter. Huh. You guys must be disappointed. :)**

**I won't make you wait anymore. Enjoy!**

* * *

Sirius watched anxiously as Lucius turned slightly pink- the equivalent of a tomato-style blush for most people- and then alarmingly pale. "Draco knows?"

"I'm fairly sure. Harry contacted me, and caught me off guard with the question." Sirius reached for his cup, only to have it be interrupted halfway to his lips as Lucius demanded:

"What question?"

Sirius' eyes strayed to Lucius, who was looking both murderous and incredibly disconcerted. As Sirius pondered the question, he felt his face heat up terribly. "Well. That's not really… er, important, is it?" He asked weakly, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

Lucius raised a brow and narrowed his eyes. "I'll decide what's important here, Black."

Ouch. If Lucius was back to surnames, then he was reaching the end of his rope. Taking a deep breath, Sirius said calmly (though his face flamed), "Harry asked me who 'topped' in our relationship. I don't have the faintest idea how he might've come across the information in the first place."

Lucius' eyes went wide, and his knuckles went white on his teacup, to the point where Sirius considered preemptively getting out a third cup. Visibly calming himself, Lucius asked in clipped tones, "We'll figure that out in a moment. What makes you think Draco knows?"

"I heard laughter. Through the connection, I mean. I thought of Draco because…" Lucius was hanging on his every word, and Sirius blushed harder than ever as he finished in one breath, "_Becausehesoundedlikeyou_."

"What?" Lucius asked crossly, leaning forwards.

Sirius closed his eyes tightly and massaged his temple. "I thought it was Draco because he sounded… his laughter sounded like yours did. Just like yours, only higher." Forcing his eyelids apart, his gaze latched onto Lucius'. He looked floored, his eyes boring into Sirius' face, examining him intensely, and after a moment, he let out a deep breath and sank back into his chair, looking pale.

"I'd hoped I wouldn't have to tell him for a few years still."

"You were going to _tell him?_" Sirius almost shouted, causing Lucius to look up in strained surprise.

"Of course, it's only natural that he would eventually be told because of- well." Lucius wouldn't meet his gaze, mumbling some nonsense about politics, but Sirius didn't push the matter; the priority was whatever was occurring at Hogwarts, after all. As Sirius opened his mouth to direct their discussion towards a plan of action, Lucius cut him off. "But how on earth would _Potter _find out? There were _very _few people who possessed knowledge of… _us_, so unless one of them is passing it through the grapevine, one of them likely informed Harry."

Sirius' brow wrinkled as he made a list of names in his head. His temples began to burn as he delved into the past, but as he focused, the ghosts of memories drifted before his mind's eye. Had he been alone, he would've thrust his fist into the air at the accomplishment. "Kingsley knew, but I'd trust him with my life, much less my secrets… Tonks wouldn't tell, she's too politic to go around running her mouth. She can't have even told Remus, or else he would've surely approached me questioning my sanity…"

"I'm flattered," Lucius said dryly, sipping his tea.

"…There's Nott, remember, he was at the Basilisk the night that it burned to the ground. Could he have been the one to-?"

"Are you forgetting that _Potter _is the one who found out, not Draco?"

Sirius tried to keep his tempter in check. "We don't know anything which one of them found out, only that it was Harry that contacted me, as I'm sure you recall."

"Of course, my mistake. I'd forgotten how wonderfully _vague _you were during your explanations." Lucius was perfectly composed; only the sharp gleam in his dark gray eyes hinted at his malicious amusement.

Gritting his teeth, Sirius did his best to not dive across the foot-and-a-half of air between them and throttle Lucius. Or better yet, pull his wand on the man. "We won't get anywhere if we keep second-guessing each other. Let's just make a damn list of people who know, and figure out who could've told Harry." Lucius was looking at him very oddly. "What?"

He tilted his head to one side slightly, his curtain of platinum hair slipping from his shoulder to sway slightly at the displacing movement. "How can I be sure _you _didn't tell Mr. Potter?"

A single look conveyed every conceivable method of his death that Sirius had ever considered, and Lucius broke the stare after a moment, a small smile on his face, as he pulled out his wand and summoned parchment, ink, and quills from the drawers. "Let's make a list, then, shall we?"

* * *

They worked silently, save for the occasional, innocent voice of Lucius asking Sirius whether so-and-so had known about them.

"Did we obliviate Oden Zabini?"

"Was it Jonathan Smith who walked in on us in that conference room?"

"Did Dumbledore ever actually ever _know_, or did he raise his eyebrows at us whenever we were in a room together for some other reason?"

After a particularly long span of silence, only interrupted when Lucius poured each of them another cup of tea, there was a loud creak from the doorway.

Lucius was on his feet, wand raised, in a millisecond, icy panic rising behind his ribcage. Sirius was holding his breath, eyes wide and wand out as the door slowly opened.

Instead of overzealous members of the Order springing from the shadows, a very bedraggled looking house-elf poked its nose into the kitchen. "Is Master wanting assistance?" The elf croaked, sounding remarkably like a bullfrog. Lucius sat down with a thump, trembling from head to foot. That could have been any one of his enemies. The fact of just how ridiculous what he was trying to do was occurred to him, but Lucius pushed the thoughts away. There was nothing wrong with trying to figure out what was going on behind the walls of Hogwarts.

Sirius seemed just as shaken. "Leave us be. Go on! Out!" He said more loudly when the elf didn't respond immediately.

"As Master wishes," The elf mumbled something else in a dark tone as he closed the door behind him.

Returning his focus to the list he had made (it was very short, with several names crossed out- those who had been obliviated), Lucius touched his quill to the paper, thinking hard. It was difficult to avoid the details of the relationship that had gone on during the time period that he was so diligently examining, especially with the man with whom it had taken place sitting mere feet from him. Lucius' mouth became substantially drier as he recalled a particularly compromising position that the pair of them had been in (In his office, on the mahogany desk that sat in the same place as it had then) when they had been interrupted by one of Sirius' and his old professors. What was her name…?

"Sirius, which professor was it that-?"

Lucius looked up to see Sirius staring into space, brow furrowed deeply as if he were trying to find a Cornish Pixie among a cloud of Welsh Pixies by simply staring at it. "Sirius?"

"Dallney, Derbly, Dibbly…"

Lucius stared. His old friend and lover was now trying to speak Mermish. "What on earth are you trying to-?"

"…Dalby, Dabby, Dobby- DOBBY!" Sirius suddenly shouted out loud. Lucius recoiled, still staring at Sirius in equal parts confusion and concern.

"Dobby? What in Merlin's name is a-"

It clicked.

"Oh. _Oh. _Oh, of _course_…"

"Your house elf, Dobby. He's certainly good enough friends with Harry to let him in on the secret." Sirius sounded breathlessly smug, and when Lucius locked eyes with him, they contained twin flares of satisfaction and that were unbearably familiar, and terribly, wonderfully directed towards him.

Lucius broke eye contact. Despite his years of practicing his aplomb, his palms were beginning to sweat. "It does make sense. That's one piece of the puzzle in place, at the very least."

* * *

Sirius watched Lucius with a slight degree of perplexity. He was certain that he had seen something familiar in the man's eyes, something he, Sirius, had no business in seeing if the man was married, if the man was _Lucius_. And then, as if Lucius had caught him looking, he had turned away, cold once more.

"I suppose so."

It had been exceedingly difficult to pretend to write down names, and to answer Lucius' questions, seeing as his memories were kept under lock and key. The fact that Sirius held the key didn't give him an excuse to open the lock, no matter how the cravings grew. The temporary relief that had followed Lucius' visit yesterday appeared to have been temporary: now the man's presence only agitated and frustrated Sirius. Every time Lucius asked him a question, the pain in his head grew slightly, to the point that he didn't dare pick up his teacup out of fear of it rattling in his trembling hand. Lucius would certainly notice the weakness, and demand an explanation. Thinking of Dobby's name had been excruciating, but satisfying- because he had known Dobby's name from more than their post-sex lounges, he could dredge it up.

Still, his head ached with a vengeance. Almost worse were the physical longings that were beginning to wake. Merlin knows, it had been too long since Sirius had had sex, but now that he was in the presence of the object of his complicated thoughts, the feelings were not ideal. Normally, he would be able to ignore them. Yet because his natural instinct was to recall his past encounters with Lucius, each twinge of arousal only fed his headache.

"What do you think we should do next? Confront Dumbledore, or confront our sons?"

"Dumbledore. He knows something." Sirius said shortly, feeling the urge to swear loudly as he heard his voice shake. He kept his eyes on the wood grain patterns of the table, ignoring how Lucius' quill had stopped in the middle of scratching through the name, and how his own cheeks heated as he felt Lucius examining him carefully.

"Are you alright, Sirius?" He asked in a low voice, and Sirius almost groaned. That voice, that thrice-damned _voice_, was a half-octave away from being in the bedroom.

"Just tired," Sirius said shortly, purposefully not meeting Lucius' eyes.

There was a long silence as Lucius continued to study Sirius' face. Sirius struggled to not let any sign of his conflicting pain and longing show on his face, and was thusly startled as a large, warm hand materialized on his forehead. His gaze snapped to Lucius, who looked slightly surprised at his own actions. The pain dropped a notch, shocking Sirius into motion.

"You should go," Sirius said in a rush, pushing his chair back, out of Lucius' reach, and standing just as quickly. "I'll show you out-"

As he moved away from Lucius, the throbbing in his head tripled, sending jagged splinters of pain through his head, heart, lungs. Sirius' words choked off as he swayed on his feet, the kitchen around him tilting spectacularly. There was a roar in his ears and bile in his mouth as he toppled, terribly slow, and yet he couldn't put out a hand to stop his descent.

He never reached the ground, though.

Wonderful, warm strong arms cradled his torso, his legs sprawled uncomfortably on the filthy floor. Though he was content to stay like that, safe in the unexpected embrace, a small, rather insistent voice inside his fracturing skull insisted that he look up. Sirius pried his eyes open, and blinked against the suddenly harsh kitchen light. Strands of gossamer silk were trailing over his cheeks, platinum that gleamed in the odd light as it swung down. Framed by the white-gold halo was Lucius.

He looked downright alarmed, worry evident in every aspect of him. His soft gray eyes were wide with alarm, his cheeks much paler than usual, his mouth forming words that Sirius couldn't hear through the raucous white noise in his ears.

Sirius' eyes slipped shut again, and silent blackness overtook his mind as the pain reached its peak. But just before he fell into unconsciousness, Sirius could've sworn that he heard Lucius whisper his name.

* * *

Lucius stared in shock at the limp form in his arms. He wasn't blind: he had been watching Sirius grow steadily paler as the minutes went past, but he had hardly expected the man to collapse.

He hesitated for a moment before adjusting his hold on Sirius and lifting him with a huff of breath leaving him in a burst. Though Sirius was quite a bit slimmer than he should be, he was still a full-grown man.

"For your sake, I hope you're bedroom's where it used to be," Lucius murmured to Sirius' slack face. _And for my sake, I hope you currently live alone. _He didn't fancy getting jumped by the Order right then, thank-you-very-much. Despite himself, a sly smile spread across his face. It had been a while since he had been inside Sirius' bedroom.

Lucius kicked the door open unceremoniously, jostling Sirius in the process and wincing as the door hit the opposite wall with a bang. Sirius didn't stir, adding to Lucius' unease. He hurried to the bed and laid Sirius down before taking out his wand and performing several charms, the purpose of which were to assist him in diagnosing Sirius' ailment. His brow furrowed in concentration as a band of silver light wrapped around Sirius' head, before turning an impressive shade of scarlet. "A fever. Wonderful," Lucius muttered to himself. A second spell manifested in an aquamarine orb, which floated lazily to Sirius' throat, and began to pulse weakly.

"At least you have a pulse," Lucius said to Sirius, not expecting a reply. "I'm no good at resuscitation, you know that."

All of the rest of the spells, meant to diagnose Sirius' condition more exactly, misted into vapor on contact. Sirius did not have a cold, the flu, a virus, or Dragonpox, and Lucius wasn't qualified to test for any other illnesses.

He stood at the side of Sirius' bed for a few minutes, watching the blue orb that lingered at Sirius' wrist now as it throbbed in time with the man's heart. Even unconscious, even after long years in Azkaban, Sirius was strikingly handsome.

Then Lucius shook himself. What he could do was try to cool Sirius down, until his fever broke. He walked to the nearest bathroom and waved his wand, watching as a bowl came zooming into the room and placed itself neatly in the sink. Lucius summoned a cloth with a flick of his wrist, flinching as a grimy piece of fabric came flying towards him.

After cleaning it until it was white again (_"Scourgify! Scourgify! Scourgify!"_), Lucius magicked the bowl to fly in front of him, into Sirius' room again. Settling himself on the edge of the bed, he dipped a finger into the water, frowned, and cast a cooling charm. When it met his mental requirements, he allowed the folded cloth to soak up the cool water, and draped it across Sirius' overly warm forehead. He sighed to himself. Once Sirius woke, he would have quite a few questions to answer, about himself, and about their boys- because even though he'd gotten better at looking innocent, Lucius could see through the guise a mile away. Sirius knew more about the incident at Hogwarts than he let on.

Lucius watched as a droplet of water slid from the cloth to trickle over Sirius' temple. Without thinking, he reached out and wiped it away, as he would were it a tear. He was unprepared for Sirius' head to turn, eyes still gently closed, to rest more firmly in Lucius' palm.

His heart beat unsteadily as he watched Sirius, feeling the man's cheek beneath his hand, smooth and soft. Lucius' fingers moved slightly, brushing through Sirius' thick, silky hair, relishing the familiar texture, the same after all of these years. The relaxed face pressed more firmly against his hand, and his lips parted in a gentle, contented sigh.

Suddenly, Lucius yanked his hand back. Who knew how long it would be before a member of the Order arrived to check in with Sirius? He should leave right away.

But as he prepared to stand, the blue orb gave a violent pulse, and Sirius' eyes snapped open. His hand shot out, clutching Lucius' robes in a surprisingly strong fist. "Stay."

Though he was conscious, his eyes had a glazed look in them, and Lucius didn't doubt that the fever had taken hold. Still, under the veil of sickness, his dark eyes were pleading.

_I never could resist those eyes._

Lucius covered Sirius' hand with his. "I'll stay."

Sirius kept their eyes locked for a moment, before relaxing, his eyes sliding shut and all of the sudden tension draining from him as suddenly as it had come. His hand remained twined with Lucius'.

Lucius could only watch as Sirius' breathing returned to normal, and the flashes of light from the orb grew more rhythmic. He picked up the cloth and wet it again, laying it carefully across Sirius' brow once more.

_All these years, and you've still got me wrapped around your finger. _

Shaking himself free of the past (quite a feat, seeing as his past was currently holding his hand), Lucius took a moment to look at the room. He had been a bit preoccupied with Sirius, but now he noticed the peeling wallpaper, and the dust on every surface. Sirius never did have a knack for decoration…

Thankful that Sirius was clutching his non-wand hand, Lucius began to work. One flick of his wand turned the wallpaper (Lucius smirked) a dark forest green, another restoring it to how it would've looked a few centuries ago. A wave removed the dust with a light popping sound, and a quick polishing spell had the furniture shining. Lucius inwardly debated about the curtains for a moment before pointing his wand at them and turning them a perfect shade of black. After a moment's perusal, he added an embroidered pattern of silver thread, watching in satisfaction as the glinting cords appeared from thin air and wove their way into the fabric as if pulled by a team of invisible needles.

Several polishing, color-changing, and freshening charms later, the room had a healthy glow to it. That might've been because he had transfigured the burned-down candles into stylish, delicate lamps, which gave the room a drowsy flush. After a moment's hesitation, Lucius turned the green furnishings a hearty red, and the silver trimmings a gleaming gold. It would've been amusing to see Sirius' face as he awoke in a Slytherin-style suite, but he didn't want to aggravate his Gryffindor any more than he had to, despite his urge to poke and prod the man's temper.

An urge which was very strong, indeed. But not as strong as the other, more dangerous urge, an urge which Lucius would be loath to give in to…

With a sharp sigh, Lucius forced his mind to other things, like freshening the cloth on Sirius' head. As he laid the cooled fabric down on Sirius' heated skin, the hand in his tightened slightly. Unconsciously, Lucius squeezed back, before shifting to lie beside Sirius on the bed, propped up on the newly cleaned headboard. Wincing, Lucius conjured a pillow, before settling back once more. After all, he wasn't going anywhere without his answers.

* * *

**A/N: My God, I LOVE writing Lucius! I really do! Anyway, I wanted to let you in on my plans for this story. "Just Relax" will end relatively soon, for those of you who are reading it for the PWP factor. There will be AT LEAST one lengthy follow-up, (probably two lengthy follow-ups, if I'm being perfectly honest) which will dive head-first into the plot I'm beginning to develop (because I have a LOT of ideas for these guys. Just sayin'. D). So for those of you who just want the smut, the end is nigh. But if you want fluff, adventure, and even MORE smut, you'll have to keep up with the rest of the story. )**

** Trust me. It'll be epic. **

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Alright, Crowngirl, you win. Drarry for you. :)**

**I'm wiped, so I'll keep it short and sweet.**

**Warning: Smut, yaoi, etc.**

**Warning: IT WILL BE MINE! Just, you know, not yet. -.-**

* * *

Harry woke up with a start, blinking until the room came into focus. Sort of. His glasses were on the bed beside him, which seemed awfully far away considering how large the bed was.

He was twined with Draco, with enough bare skin touching to make him flush deeply. As Harry watched Draco sleep, he heard a soft melody whispering through the room. As he listened, Draco inhaled suddenly and met Harry's curious gaze. His pale gray eyes were clouded with sleep for a few moments before he wriggled out of Harry's arms (To the Gryffindor's voiced protests, which he acknowledged with a small smile) and slid off of the massive bed. Bending slightly, Draco picked up his pajama bottoms with one hand, rubbing his eyes blearily with the other.

"I charmed my pocket watch to wake us before three," He whispered in explanation, pulling a small silver watch with a delicate chain out of the pocket. It glowed faintly, and when Draco opened it, the gentle music swelled, before drifting to a stop. "I figured we'd probably end up asleep one way or another, deprived as we are."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his lips quirking up slightly as he fumbled for his glasses on the bedspread. "That was a good idea. We'd have likely slept through lunch if you hadn't."

Draco smiled ruefully as he let his trousers fall to the floor again, tossing the watch on the bed beside Harry. After a moment, however, his expression turned thoughtful. "I meant to ask you earlier. The note that I got was unsigned. Did you send it?"

"No, it would've been Dumbledore."

Draco's reaction was alarming. He turned so white, Harry thought there might be a dementor nearby, only Harry would've felt it as well. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"Dumbledore knows? He knows that I-?"

"Yes! Draco, honestly, you look awful-"

Draco swallowed, and looked like he was having difficulty breathing. For a minute, Harry felt a pang of fear- what if Draco was using him, and that was why he was so afraid of Dumbledore knowing?

Then Draco blurted, "How the hell did Dumbledore figured out that I'd deflowered you? And why am I still alive, if he knows?"

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. "You're worried because you think Dumbledore would do something to you for-" Harry blushed "-_deflowering _me?"

"Merlin, yes! You're his favorite student, and I'm the son of a Death Eater! I'm surprised that I still have balls! How did he find out? You didn't tell him, did you?"

Harry realized that he hadn't filled Draco in on the events of his day. "Dobby mentioned it to him. Listen, I should've told you earlier…" Harry told him everything, even (with some hesitation) Dumbledore's comments about Harry's "judgment" in choosing Draco, and the offer that he'd extended to Draco and his family.

When he finished, Draco looked slightly ill, and he was silent for a long time before saying, "We should talk to Dumbledore in the morning. Don't worry," he added hastily, "This doesn't change the fact that I care about you a lot. But I love my family, and I don't know if I could live with myself if my actions put their lives in jeopardy."

Harry nodded, feeling immensely relieved that Draco hadn't immediately disregarded the idea. "Yeah, we'll go talk to him in the morning." There was a moment's pause, and Harry ran a hand through his hair again, thoroughly regretting the action as he realized that his hair was probably sticking up nicely, making him look like an idiot. "Um. Should we… what should we do now? Go back to our dormitories?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to wash?" At Harry's blank look, he strode across the room and tapped the mirror with his wand. Harry watched, impressed, as a panel swung outwards, into what looked like a decently sized bath (decorated in- big surprise – black and silver), and slid off of the bed to join Draco. He didn't ignore the blatant, possessive approval in the blonde's eyes, simply because it didn't bother him like it used to; in fact, he rather liked the hungry, predatory gaze. It reminded him that Draco cared for and appreciated him, and that made him feel curiously bubbly and secure. He gave Draco a coy smile, which was returned with interest.

For the first time, Harry wasn't overly embarrassed to be viewed naked. Draco had done nothing whatsoever to make him feel ashamed. Why should he be?

_Although_, he thought as Draco looked him over once more than was strictly necessary, _perhaps a little discretion is called for_.

"You're blushing," Draco murmured as he drew close, closing the door to the bath behind him. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," Harry admitted promptly. "And me."

"Really," Draco purred, reaching out to stroke Harry's side with the feathery tips of his fingers. "Are we doing anything naughty in these thoughts of yours?"

Harry took in a sharp breath as Draco moved in, and he answered, "Not yet. But we will be, soon."

Draco chuckled deeply, and suddenly had a grip on Harry's hips and was maneuvering him as though he were made of feathers. Harry overbalanced, but rather than crashing to the tile floor, Draco pulled him into his lap, where he had seated himself on a low marble bench situated at the head of the bath. The bathtub began to fill itself, and for a dizzy moment Harry believed that their mere presence had set it off until he noticed Draco's hand on the faucet.

"It'll take a while for the bath to fill. We have some time to burn," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, before moving closer to lick the outer shell of Harry's ear. The Gryffindor pulled himself closer, tossing his other leg over Draco's hips so that he straddled the other boy.

"Wh-what did you have in mind?" Harry breathed, pulling away to look Draco in the eye. With a Slytherin smirk, Draco's hands settled on Harry's hips and pulled him forward, so that their erections pressed together. Harry's eyes went wide, and his hands tightened on Draco's shoulders as he gasped.

The blonde wasted no time in claiming Harry's lips, guiding Harry into motion above him until they established a rhythm of slow grinding. The marble felt strikingly cold against Harry's flushed skin, though he was almost too swept up in the slowly building pleasure that mounted with every swivel of his hips and adjustment of Draco's grip to notice.

He did notice, however, when a rivulet of bathwater lapped at his knee. Harry jumped, pulling out of Draco's smoldering kiss to fumble with the water valves. When they were firmly off, he turned back to Draco, whose hands were still gently stroking the skin above his hips. A pair of smiles graced their faces, and Harry shook his head at their ability to block out everything but each other.

"It would appear that our time is up," Harry said, only half faking the regret in his voice.

Draco raised a brow. "Who said that? This was just a warm-up." But he still allowed Harry to slide off his lap, watching as he drained enough water so that they could get in.

Then Harry paused, feeling another blush darken his cheeks as he gestured to the tub. "How do you want to… er…"

Draco leered. "Which position should we try, you mean?"

Harry raised a casual brow, though he flushed further. "If that's how you'd like to phrase it."

"I'll get in first," Draco suggested, the devious smile lingering in his eyes. He slipped beneath the steaming water with a contented sigh. After a moment, he smirked up at Harry, who recognized the look- this was the _Draco _smirk, full of confidence and sex and sly contemplation, with a healthy dose of approval. It was a far cry from the _Malfoy _smirk, which also had confidence, but was also full of contempt, and sneering superiority.

"Care to join me?"

Harry broke from his thoughts with a smile of his own, and he eased himself into the tub, facing Draco. Their legs brushed and stroked one another, and Harry turned around to grab the soap before Draco's toes could get too frisky.

Eventually, Harry ended up with his back pressed against Draco's chest, playing with Draco's hand as Draco ran the fingers of his free hand through Harry's wet, clean hair. "You have the longest fingers," He marveled, grinning as the chest he was leaning against vibrated with chuckles.

"You never noticed?" Draco asked, his voice husky, and Harry turned crimson.

"Honestly, even when I say the most innocent things, you turn my own words against me." Harry pouted half-heartedly, though the charade crumbled as Draco laughed again and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his head, then moved forward to rest his chin by Harry's temple.

"You have to admit, that wasn't very innocent in the first place…"

It was true, but Harry wasn't about to admit it. Instead, he returned his focus to Draco's hand, turning it over and smoothing out the fingers. "You probably play instruments," Harry murmured, tracing one finger with his own. "Or draw."

"Both. Piano, and violin. Some guitar, but it's not as traditional, so there isn't as much reason to learn. And my mother has been teaching me art since I was very small."

Harry leaned back, nestling his head on Draco's shoulder, though his eyes remained on their hands. "I thought those were Muggle instruments."

For a split second, Harry worried that he had insulted Draco, but he responded promptly. "Music isn't something that is divided by magical ability. Music is a manifestation of magic, because of the way instruments are made. Art isn't quite the same: Muggles use different tools, and are therefore at a disadvantage when it comes to charming charcoal, or even brewing paints. It's not something for them to be judged on."

Harry was still for several moments, mesmerized by Draco's words. He had always assumed that Draco's disdain for everything non-magic was bone-deep. Struggling for the right words, Harry opted for the easy out. "When do I get to see these talents of yours?"

Draco was smiling again: Harry could feel it against his temple. "We'll make it a date. The two of us can sneak off to the room of requirement for a romantic dinner, and I'll serenade you after. Then we'll have a follow-up later on, preferably during the day, so we can take advantage of the light, and I'll sketch you. How's that?"

A balloon of giddiness was expanding in Harry's chest, triggered by the word _date. _He and Draco were going to have a _date_. "That sounds perfect," Harry said.

"Excellent. I'll contact Dobby immediately."

There was a sudden _crack!_ which caused Harry and Draco to jump, sloshing all over the floor. Harry's eyes sought the source of the sound, and alighted on a familiar, oddly-dressed house elf.

"Did sirs call for Dobby?"

Once again, the curious elf was unfazed by their nudity, and nearness. Harry opened his mouth to tell him, no, we most certainly did not, but Draco beat him to it.

"No, no, we're quite alright here, Dobby, but thank you for checking in."

"It is Dobby's pleasure to assist Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter whenever he can," Dobby assured them excitedly, before vanishing with another cracking sound.

Harry and Draco were silent for a long moment before Harry burst out laughing, Draco following soon after, stumbling over each other's sentences. "Merlin, I cannot _believe_-"

"Of all the things that could happen-"

Their mirth died down, leaving them with good-natured silence. Harry settled back onto Draco's shoulder, and smiled slightly as he felt Draco kiss the skin just below his ear. "You can do that all you want," Harry murmured, "I'm too tired to shag again."

"I believe you, and I won't push you on that. But maybe I have ulterior motives," Draco replied mysteriously, laughter still tingeing his tone.

"What motives could possibly trump sex?" Harry half-wondered, half-asked aloud.

Harry drew a sharp breath as Draco moved to his neck, pressing his lips to the skin lower and lower until he reached the juncture of Harry's throat and shoulder. Here, where the mark would be hidden by his school clothes, he began by licking a dainty stripe over the skin, and went on from there, nipping and biting and sucking until the skin was a striking reddish-purple.

"Making sure that anyone who comes too close knows that you belong to someone already. After all, it wouldn't do for you to find someone else before our date."

Harry twisted around to look Draco in the eye. "There's no one I'd rather have," He said seriously.

Draco studied him for a moment before replying, "Likewise."

"Good. And now that we've cleared that," Harry lifted the hand not twined with Draco's to the throbbing place on his neck and raised an eyebrow. "Try to go for a less obvious place next time. I had to tell Ron and Hermione that Peeves pushed me down a flight of stairs last time."

Draco laughed freely, and Harry turned back around. "I'll do my best, Harry."

"Thanks."

They were both true to their word: Harry was far too exhausted to go another round, despite their earlier make-out session, and Draco didn't try to persuade him. (Although, Harry strongly suspected that the fair-haired boy was also too tired to have another spirited romp.) They got out of the bath reluctantly, toweling one another off (with fluffy, black, silver-trimmed towels).

As Harry got dressed, he contemplated this encounter. Their relationship was really evolving quite remarkably. Mere days ago, he and Draco hadn't quite been to the point where they could speak freely, comfortably. Now, though they hadn't broached any of the stickier topics, Harry thought they had made serious progress. Could he and Draco even call themselves… well, "boyfriends" seemed a little odd, but it fit well enough. Harry snuck a glance at Draco, who was pulling on his nightshirt. Maybe he'd bring it up on their date.

"What are you smiling about?" Draco asked. Harry looked up, trying to quell the urge to beam at the blonde.

"I'm just looking forward to our dates." He answered, stepping into Draco's open arms. "I think it'll be fun."

Draco grinned sheepishly. "You're sure? I don't want to show off…"

"Oh, please. It's one of your specialties," Harry teased. "I think it's a great idea. Maybe I'll cook for you later on. Showcase _my _talents."

"That sounds great- although, I assure you, not all of your talents are culinary…" Draco's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Shut up," Harry muttered, still smiling, as he leaned in to kiss Draco good-night. He molded their lips together, mussing Draco's still-damp hair with his hands as Draco cupped his face gently.

When they parted, Harry was breathing slightly faster than before, and was almost rethinking his "too tired" idea, but then Draco gave him a last peck, and stepped away. "I'll see you in the morning," He said. "I'll be the one with dark circles under my eyes."

Harry laughed, making his way to the hole in the wall that led to the common room, cloak and wand in hand. "I'll be the one with bed-head."

"You always have bed-head," Draco teased, before blowing him a kiss and stepping through a solid-looking tapestry.

Harry clambered back through the hole, closing the hinged door behind him. Wand lit and cloak donned, he climbed the infernal staircase until he reached the dorm. Once inside, he shuffled to his bed, crawled inside, and stuffed the cloak under his pillow. He was asleep within seconds.

* * *

**My poor, sleep-deprived boys! **

**Wait, what am I saying? Poor, sleep-deprived ME! **

**Oh, well. I do it for the reviews. So please, help me? I really do get inspired more when I'm encouraged by you guys.**

**Much love!**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


	23. Chapter 23

**My computer is F'ed up and so am I. Sorry the chapter is short, but I'm saving the good stuff for the next two/three (FINAL!) chapters.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Warning: None for this chapter.**

**My God, I am SO tired.**

* * *

Lunch, Harry thought hazily. He had to make it until lunch. That was when he and Draco had agreed to go to Dumbledore to learn more about the man's enigmatic proposition. However, the midday meal seemed very far away, indeed.

It had started with oversleeping- Ron had insisted that he'd been shouting himself hoarse outside Harry's curtains for a full five minutes before he had shaken his friend roughly to rouse him, frustrated and hungry. Though there was some degree of satisfaction for successfully sneaking in and out of the dorm room the previous evening, Harry was simply too tired and cranky to enjoy his victory. His reflection was, unfortunately, an accurate representation of how he was feeling at the moment: deep purple, bruise-like smudges under his eyes, an unhealthy pale tint to his skin, and eyes that hurt to open because they were so dry and bloodshot.

Hermione had exclaimed so loudly upon seeing him in Potions, Snape had docked her fifteen house points, making her go a blotchy red at the Slytherin's jeers (All but Draco- he was a full half-hour late to the class, and looked almost normal except for the brutal shadowing beneath his eyes, like Harry's own). She kept hissing questions at him, her anxious eyes darting from the front of the room, where Snape prowled (was Harry imagining the suspicious looks he was shooting to Harry and Draco?) to Ron, as if he could answer why their best friend looked like he'd talked back to one of the enchanted suits of armor.

Their class period trickled by, made worse by the failing grade Snape gave him for his dreadful-smelling potion, which was giving off an ominous glow, and by the fleeting, intense looks Draco kept sending him when no one else was looking. But it eventually ended.

Usually, Binns would be exactly what Harry needed: something to help him drift off to sleep. But Hermione, adamant about his the danger of his marks slipping, forced him to remain conscious, something she reinforced by jabbing him forcefully in the side with her textbook, which seemed to weigh more than she did, and felt as if it dented Harry's ribs every time she roused him. Ron kept sending him anxious looks. "Are you having nightmares again, mate?" he whispered, despite Hermione's disapproving stare.

"Er- yeah," Harry muttered absently, rubbing his sore eyes and hoping that Draco was feeling more alert than he was. After all, at least one of them should be paying attention to the floored look Dumbledore was going to be wearing when Draco asked what it would mean to be protected by the Order. The headmaster likely believed that Harry was going to explain to Draco that their relationship was sexual _only, _and that they would never speak of it again once the whole ordeal was over and done.

"Maybe tonight, we can get 'Mione to cast that knock-out charm or whatever it is, so you won't… er…"

"Look like shit warmed over?" Harry provided dryly, and was rewarded with a sheepish snort from Ron and a scandalized squawk from Hermione, who thoroughly disapproved of cursing.

"Exactly."

"We'll see. I'm… I'm going to try to take a nap during lunch," Harry said quickly, seeing an opening. I'll set an alarm, so you won't have to come up to wake me. Plus, we've got a free period after that, so it'll be perfect."

"Good idea, mate. I'll make sure no one wakes you up." With a final worried look, Ron settled his head on his hands, staring in Binns' general direction with glazed eyes.

* * *

Dumbledore opened the door to his office immediately after Draco knocked, as if he had been about to exit the room. He didn't look surprised to see them there, though his eyebrows raised perceptibly as he took in their sleep-deprived states. "Good afternoon, boys. I was wondering when you might be meeting with me. In the future, please do owl in advance- you never know when I may be in the middle of something horribly incriminating, or worse." He said all this lightly as he turned and walked back to his desk, and Harry and Draco exchanged looks that held a combination of slight alarm and resignation. After all, this was _Dumbledore _they were talking to.

"However," the man continued, sitting and gesturing for them to do the same, "In this instance, I am very glad that you approached me in such a timely manner. As I told Harry yesterday, Professor Sprout has been searching for a solution for the problem the two of you have." Here, Draco made a slight choking noise, and Harry reached over to take his hand, reassuring him, and Draco squeezed back, sending Harry a gentle smile. Dumbledore didn't bat an eye- in fact, he looked at Draco more warmly after the actions. "I thought the matter was rather urgent, after all, and conveyed that to her. She has come to the conclusion that the Devil's Snare can be dealt with normally, without permanently affecting the two of you. Despite her assurances that the pair of you will be fine in the meantime, I have my doubts about your well-being while it is being burned. The two of you will go to the room I gave to you the instant your afternoon classes are finished. Dobby will give you any food you require, should you become peckish, and you will be sealed in for as long as it takes for your professors and myself to dispose of the plant."

"All of you are going? Not just Professor Sprout?" Draco's voice was politely incredulous.

"Better safe than sorry, Mister Malfoy."

Harry was struggling internally. "Professor, Ron and Hermione are already worried about me. What am I supposed to tell them about my disappearing again?"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Simply tell them that I wish to speak with you privately." His eyes moved to Draco. "You are welcome to the same falsehood."

Draco and Harry nodded, and Dumbledore sat forward, looking satisfied.

"Excellent. But I don't think that the reason you two came to see me was to listen to me explain the situation to you. What can I do for you?"

The moment of truth. Harry's mouth was bone-dry, and it opened and closed twice before he looked over at Draco. The blonde looked more nervous than he'd ever seen him, whether it be at a Quiddich game, or before their O.W.L.'s. Still, he looked Dumbledore in the eye as he said:

"I'd like to learn more about what you told Harry. About my family and I switching sides."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, absently rubbing his thumbs together. There was a long silence that preceded his next words, and Harry watched anxiously as Dumbledore stared intently at Draco, as if reading text that was written in invisible ink. With a start, Harry realized that Dumbledore was using Legilimency on Draco. Finally, he sat back in his chair with a slow, approving nod. "Thank you for allowing me that, Draco. I appreciate it immensely- you must forgive me for my suspicions."

"Don't worry about it," Draco responded quietly, looking evenly at Dumbledore. "I wouldn't trust myself were I in your shoes."

"Indeed. Well, to answer your question, I would be able to give your mother and father a safe house, to which you would have access at all times. You would all need to have letters from me on your person at all times, in the event of a member of the Order trying to arrest or otherwise harm you. They have been trained to recognize my signature- both magical and otherwise," he added wryly. "To keep them from assuming that you are spies, or worse. I cannot protect the three of you as well if you choose to remain in your normal lives. There is a possibility that your Slytherin friends will become too hostile when they discover your change of alliance, and either strike out at you on the orders of Lord Voldemort-" Draco flinched slightly, "-Or out of a more personal vendetta. I must ask you, though: do you believe your mother and father will leave your home and their power behind to join us?"

Draco flinched again, ever-so-slightly, before drawing himself up and staring intently at Dumbledore. "Malfoys are always loyal to our family first," He said strongly.

"That may be true for your father," Dumbledore said quietly, "But your mother has not always been a Malfoy- she did not grow up valuing the same things. Otherwise, would Bellatrix have gone to prison, or would she have spent her days hidden in your Manor?"

Draco was as perfectly still as newly formed ice. In the heavy silence that followed Dumbledore's statements, Harry rolled the words over in his head. It was odd- he had thought that Lucius Malfoy would be the problem when it came to convincing Draco's parents that this was the right path.

"We won't know until we try," Draco said at last, and Harry turned hit head quickly at the thoroughly dejected voice. Draco had his head in one of his hands, the other still curled loosely around Harry's. He tightened his grip, trying to reassure him, and Draco looked up with a grim smile. "It would probably best to have the conversations here, eventually. At the Manor, there are few ways to escape that my parents don't know about."

Dumbledore inclined his head respectfully. "Of course. We would not want to put you in harm's way. In the meantime, we can give you charms and other means of masking thoughts of our plans from Voldemort. Likewise, for your father and mother, if they do not wish to enter protective custody immediately."

Then, as if prompted by an invisible speaker, Dumbledore looked at a small, spinning mechanical piece on his desk. "My, look at the time! We'll continue our plans later on, boys, you'll be needing to get to class."

Harry stared for a moment, realizing that it was, indeed, a clock. An upside-down, backwards, floating clock, but still, a clock.

"Yes, sir," Harry intoned as he and Draco stood, hands still locked.

"And remember- as soon as classes are done, get to the room. It will seal automatically for twelve hours, with the exception of Dobby's entry and exit." Smiling, Dumbledore added, "I hope that you two are still this amicable towards one another after the fact. Best of luck to you both."

As Draco said, "And to you, professor," Harry thought to himself, _I hope so, too_.

* * *

Lucius woke up slowly, trying to figure out where in the bloody hell he was. There was someone with soft, unruly dark hair sprawled across his chest. Who did he know that had dark hair that would willingly- or even unwillingly- fall asleep on his chest?

Then the person gave a small sigh of wakefulness, and the dark haired head lifted. A partially-covered eye, so dark a brown it was almost black, blinked coltishly behind a tangle of black lashes. Then Sirius' eye widened, a caricature of panic, and he attempted to scramble off of Lucius. But he scrambled the wrong way, and the instant he felt gravity tug at his limbs, he let out a very doglike yelp, and grabbed Lucius' clothes in a remarkable grip.

Instead of keeping him on the bed, this action only served to pull Lucius down with him. Which is how Lucius suddenly found himself looking down at a very shell-shocked Sirius, feeling the length of their bodies pressing together.

Lucius put a hand on either side of Sirius' rigid arms and lifted himself slightly to move away hurriedly, but paused, hovering, for a moment. Sirius had an odd expression on his face- a mix of pain and hesitation. A moment passed before Lucius realized that it was the same look he'd worn the day before, which had signaled his imminent collapse.

Sirius surged up without warning, fastening his lips to Lucius' with a needy whine, and pulling his body back down to pin Sirius to the floor. Lucius was overwhelmed by everything that was _Sirius_- the still-familiar feel of his lips, of his wiry body, the demanding, desperate way he licked the corner of Lucius' mouth, the ragged breathing that he could feel puffing softly against his face.

But it wasn't right. No matter how long he'd lain awake for years, thinking about this man, he couldn't start again and then expect himself to stop.

So he pulled away, and was about to force himself to get up and put some distance between himself and the Gryffindor, but the second he did, Sirius' head fell back against the freshly carpeted floor, and whispered hoarsely, "_Lucius._"

And his resolve broke with a nearly-audible cracking sound. He threaded his hand into Sirius' hair (so soft, still so soft), relishing in the delighted moan that fell past Sirius' lips just before he claimed them with his own. As Lucius swept his tongue across Sirius' lower lip, Sirius' hands found their way under Lucius' robes and dragged roughly over his back, as if the urge to touch every bit of the blonde couldn't be denied.

Legs parted beneath his, and curled over his hips. Lucius fisted a handful of Sirius' robes and kissed him harder, feeling their hearts pounding together through their robes.

Sirius broke away, panting and shivering, and Lucius was moving towards his neck when he saw it.

Sirius' cheeks were shiny, a definite gleam of moisture that hadn't been there before. Tears.

"Sirius, what's wrong?" Lucius whispered, trying to think what he could've done to create this response. Sirius stared at him for several moments, each longer than the last, and eventually shuddered, burying his face in Lucius' shoulder.

Lucius was frozen for a few moments, before he moved his body off of Sirius and heaved the brunette back onto the bed before climbing in himself. Immediately, Sirius was in his lap, damp face nestled in the crook of Lucius' neck and shoulder.

They stayed like that for uncounted minutes, Sirius' shoulders shaking with fresh tears every now and then. Eventually, he pulled back, swiping a hand at his reddened, dark eyes and sending shamed looked towards Lucius. "Sorry," he muttered, averting his gaze entirely, "Sorry."

Lucius stared for a few moments. "Something's wrong. I'm not leaving until you tell me what." Despite the fact that Narcissa was probably frantic, and he was certain that he had missed several important owls and probably a fire-call from Severus about Harry and Draco, it was true. He didn't care one bit about any of that. Sirius was here, in front of him, hurting, and Lucius wasn't leaving until he was in one piece again.

"No," Sirius said insistently. "Leave, I want you to leave, I don't want-"

Lucius reached forward and tilted Sirius' head up so that their eyes bored into one another's. "Something's wrong. I'm not leaving until you tell me what." He repeated slowly, watching in satisfaction as a flicker of hope flashed through Sirius' eyes.

* * *

**Okay, so like I said in the other A/N, the end is nigh. It will be awesome, and the sequel will follow shortly- I'll post a final chapter after the story has ended to let you guys know when the other one is starting.**

**Reviews inspire me to write faster. No joke.**

**G'night, guys.**

**Sincerely,**

_**Jester.**_


	24. Chapter 24

**Okay, this is either the penultimate or pre-penultimate chapter. The next chapter/s will be fun/hell to write. :)**

**Sorry for the upcoming wait, but Jester's life kinda sucks monkey balls right about now.**

**This is a lot of setting up, but the final product will (hopefully) be worth it.**

**Warnings: Yaoi!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit. Yet.**

* * *

"Dumbledore wants you to go to his office tonight? And do what?" Hermione was rather cross, Harry determined, watching his friend clutching her schedules and trying to spell a grammar error out of one of her numerous essays.

"I dunno. You know how Dumbledore is- he just said it would take a while."

Suddenly Ron, who Harry had assumed had fallen asleep on his not-nearly-finished Charms essay, spoke up. "You don't think he's found out about you and Malfoy, do you?"

Hermione's head jerked up, and she looked downright alarmed. "Oh, Harry, you could get into so much trouble… Imagine if Mr. Malfoy finds out…"

For a lurching moment, Harry thought they had somehow switched to a parallel universe where he'd had the balls to tell his friends about the affair, but then he realized they were talking about the "duel". "I'm sure he would've looked more upset. He just looked normal, and told me to bring my invisibility cloak."

Hermione looked anxiously at the clock. "Well, it's nearly six now. I suppose you should go."

"Save you a seat at dinner, mate?" Ron asked with a yawn, stretching ostentatiously.

"I don't know how long it'll be. Don't wait up," Harry lied. He knew how long he'd be: twelve hours, on the dot. Hopefully.

"Alright. Good luck. And hey, if it is about Malfoy, give his old man a punch for me." Harry felt vaguely ill at the prospect of punching Lucius Malfoy. He wasn't sure who would be angrier- Lucius or Draco. He wasn't sure whose wrath he'd prefer. Still, he responded:

"Sure thing, Ron."

In the dorm, Harry grabbed his cloak, and, on a whim, his pajamas. Although, he thought wryly, it would be lucky if he and Draco had a chance to do much talking at all.

The narrow stairway went by just as slowly as the previous time, and though he was eager to get out of the cold stone passage and into the special room, he paused at the entrance. This was going to be the moment of truth: did he and Draco like each other because of the plant, and only that? Harry felt ill again at the thought of no more kisses, or laughs, but straightened his shoulders and lifted a hand to open the portrait hole anyway.

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

Sirius was silent for a long time before he spoke, and even then the words came quietly, hesitantly, as if each one required the proper rumination before being released.

"Everyone thinks that the dementors _take _memories. Everyone thinks that they drain you of happiness. I believed it, too… because eventually, even though I tried to stay away, tried to keep them from robbing my mind, I stopped being able to remember the best moments of my life, one day at a time. Graduation from Hogwarts. James and Lily's wedding. And… us.

"Some memories were both good and bad, bittersweet, or with too much stress or anger to be considered "good". Those only faded a little bit, like the night Harry was born, because of Lily's complications that had us all so worried. Eventually, those memories became harder to grasp, if not from the dementors, then from my own fevered handling of them. I was becoming madder and madder, even though I was shifting into my Animagus form almost constantly to fool the monsters. When I broke out, I was driven by the need to help Harry, but I was devastated by the lack of my memories. When I escaped from Hogwarts, Dumbledore found me a few months later. I was… I wasn't in very good shape. I was unable to relive my past, and unable to escape or replace it. I was sure that I was going to go insane and suffer a terrible, ironic death.

"But Dumbledore… Dumbledore knows that the dementors don't steal your memories. He realized that the dementors just build walls in your mind so that you can't find the memories, and then feed on the inevitable despair that follows. And he proposed to me a plan that would save my sanity.

"He determined that it would be possible to use a pensive to extract my memories through a complicated process that he orchestrated himself. Then he taught me how to step into my past self, and truly relive my past. It can only be done with your past self- no one can become somebody else. But because deep inside ourselves we remember living those moments, and so we can do it again.

"Dumbledore warned me against excessive use. But do you think I listened? I was starved of happiness, and because I was a wanted man, I had no one to help me. Even Dumbledore's company was limited. After all, he was planning the Triwizard Tournament on top of his usual duties. When I stepped into my past for the first time, it was like seeing the sun again. I was so overjoyed, so unbelievably _happy_. I used the pensive for hours on end every day, soaking in every detail of my school days, my achievements with the Order, and… you.

"Even after all you had said, all you had done, I loved you. I loved you more than anything and everything. I would step outside my body in the memories just so that I could stare at your face without glancing away as I had done then. You were the ultimate drug. The ultimate addiction.

"After all, that's what it was. I would step out of the pensive and be unable to remember what I had seen, what I'd done. I remembered the happiness, but I no longer felt it. It frustrated me, that lack of constant reliving. I demanded that Dumbledore put the memories back in my head, that he fix me. But he told me that it was too dangerous. He refused. And then he insisted that I begin to stop relying on the pensive.

"Around that time, Remus came to stay for a few weeks. I was unable to use it when I was around him, and when he was there, there wasn't as strong a pull towards the memories, though it was still strong, and constant. I started to laugh again.

"Shortly after that, I volunteered Grimmauld Place to be a headquarters for the Order. I figured that the more people who are around, the less likely it will be that I give in to the need to relive anything. But the few memories that I could remember haunted me. Our first meeting was one- it had no significance when it occurred, so the dementors couldn't quite block me from it- and I spent endless hours remembering the streetlamp light on your hair, your breath on my face. Oh, that one was a favorite.

"And it was the thing that broke me. I heard Draco's laughter when I spoke to Harry, and I couldn't help but go and hear the real thing, see the real thing. And of course, I dragged myself away and went into withdrawal. I was entering the worst of it when you surprised me in the kitchen. I was weak. And you…

"You hadn't changed a bit.

"I only remember _needing _you, _needing _to feel you again. And then I kissed you, and it was like I was twenty again. I felt whole for the first time in years. Even though I'd sworn to myself that I didn't love you anymore, even though I had convinced myself that you were a selfish, foolish bastard who lied to my face for all those years, I kissed you. And I realized that I was the liar. I was the fool. I was as in love with you as ever.

"After that, I'd hoped that seeing you was the key, the answer. Being in your presence would ease the pain I was in every moment I wasn't in the pensive. But then you returned, and the pain only got worse as my mind struggled to find the memories that were no longer there. It got more and more terrible, and then… you touched my forehead. Just for a moment, ever-so-lightly, and the pain vanished. It took me be surprise, and along with the moment of peace came the realization that I could only have peace when you touched me, something that I could never have. I moved away, and the pain was back with a vengeance. I collapsed, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up on your chest, feeling better than I had in years. And then we fell, and even though you were there, _right there_, I felt the pain like never before. Merlin, I thought I was actually going to die. And then I kissed you, and it all went away. But where the pain used to be, there was a realization, a seed taking root. It became apparent that you were the only person in the world who could sustain me, keep me from returning to a life I could never have again, for the same reasons we had to part ways all those years ago. And I was so… _devastated. _You were all I wanted, all I'd ever wanted…

"…I could never have you."

* * *

Sirius was silent after that. He was still in Lucius' lap, cradled against his chest, with Lucius' arms around the smaller man. Lucius was reeling. Sirius had confirmed everything he had feared, and explained things he had never even considered: his lover had been living a life worse than death.

"I need to show you something."

Sirius jerked at the sound of Lucius' voice.

"What- why?"

"There's nothing I can say that will make you forgive me. But I can show you something that will explain, just a little bit."

A palmful of tears had collected on the fine fabric of Lucius' robes. Sirius' head was heavy in the few moments before he nodded, stiffly, and began to move. Lucius anticipated the buckle of his knees when they touched the floor, and slid an arm beneath Sirius' before the dark-haired man could fall. Sirius sent him a quick look of wary thankfulness, and then quickly away. The message could not have been clearer: what I told you doesn't matter, because it can't. It never has. Let's not forget that.

_You think that now,_ Lucius thought grimly. _And I certainly cannot begrudge you that. But give me a final chance, even though I don't deserve it._

Just before they exited the room, Sirius stuttered to a halt and whirled around to face the room so fast that Lucius almost couldn't catch him. "What in the bloody hell did you do to my room?" He blurted.

Lucius smirked before he could stop himself, amazed at the rapid-fire nature of his friend's mind. "Improved it."

Sirius looked outraged for a moment, and then shrugged his way out from under Lucius' arm to stumble away on his own, but not fast enough that Lucius didn't catch the muffled hiss of "_Bastard._"

Rolling his eyes with a slight smile, he asked, "Where is it?"

Sirius didn't turn his head, instead walking down the hallway away from Lucius, purposefully ignoring the blonde, until he repeated the question. Then Sirius turned his head slightly, frowning, and barked, "Where is _what?_"

"The pensive. I assume you don't leave it lying about."

Sirius stopped short, and turned sharply to face him. "Why would you want to see it?"

"I already said that I wanted to show you something." Lucius said calmly, watching Sirius' red eyes narrow in suspicion, and his fists clench.

"You're going to try to take away my memories. So that you can erase the last shred of evidence that proves what scum you are." Sirius lashed out with his words, and Lucius felt raw, as though he had been raked by claws unseen.

"No. I only want to _show _you something. Taking your memories would only hurt you."

Sirius laughed scornfully, and turned to face the wall. He propped himself against it with one arm, shaking his head slightly. "When have you ever let that stop you? It's never bothered you before."

Lucius flinched at the bitter words. "You're wrong."

Sirius whirled to stare him in the eye. "Am I? Am I the one who is wrong here?" Sirius' face twisted into a terrible combination of hurt and exasperation. "You only ever cared about yourself, Lucius. You never cared about me. Don't try to fool me into believing a word you say now." He turned back to the hallway that led to the stairs and said in a hollow voice, "I appreciate what you did for me when I was ill. I'll escort you out now."

* * *

Sirius gritted his teeth. He would not show weakness again to Lucius. It was out of the question- the soul-baring earlier had been a mistake, a grave miscalculation. The man in question was frozen in place behind him for a stretched moment. Sirius could picture him, legs locked and eyes wide. Then in four long strides, he was at Sirius' side. "Will you _listen?_" He hissed, grabbing Sirius' arm, ignoring the Gryffindor's struggles. "I _know _there's nothing I can say that will convince you. I _know _you don't believe me when I try to tell you that I wasn't playing any games all those years. That's why I'm trying to _show _you, through _my_ eyes. _My _memories."

Sirius wrenched away, looking furious as he backed away, shaking his head. "You think what I… What I said earlier means that you can try to pull this again? No- no, we're not doing this again."

"Why not?" Lucius said, matching him step for step.

"Why-? Are you listening to yourself? What could possibly come out of this? For one thing, I'm a _fugitive_, you're married, and, oh, I almost forgot, _you don't_ _love me-_"

Lucius kissed him.

Hard, swift, unforgiving- it wasn't the kind of kiss that one would think would express love. And it wasn't- not literally, anyway. No birds sang, their bodies didn't grow lighter. But sparks flew, and before long, their heads were fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. It was the first time in years that Lucius had initiated a kiss. It wasn't sweet. And it wasn't tender.

It was honest.

It was desperate, harsh, bitter with unshed tears and unsaid words, and in the simple slide of lips and graze of teeth, Sirius felt the push of Lucius' magic against his skin, fueled by pure emotion, though the emotion was not pure. The hot surge of it against his skin was like a slap in the face, as if someone had opened his eyes for the first time, for real.

It was clear now:

Lucius had feelings for him. Strong ones: it took a lot to make one's aura corporeal. Sirius' eyelids were shut, fallen closed after the onslaught, but he could see the silver-white blaze that emanated from Lucius. It wouldn't be visible when he opened his eyes, but it was there- he knew it.

When Lucius broke away and stared into his eyes, Sirius was ready to listen.

Ready for the truth.

* * *

They stood at the pensive, Sirius watching anxiously as Lucius pressed his wand tip to his temple and withdrew a reasonable amount of silvery substance. It drizzled into the pensive with gentle ripples, like summer raindrops, and Sirius watched carefully as the last one was absorbed into the surface.

"Together?"

Sirius looked up. Lucius' hand was extended, his face expectant and warm. Sirius' heart flipped, and he wondered how many people in the world had seen Lucius be _warm_.

But instead of melting into a puddle of Hufflepuff goo and gushing sweet-nothings to him, Sirius straightened his shoulders and grasped Lucius' wrist. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

Lucius touched the surface gently with his free hand, and Sirius smiled faintly at the familiar dropping sensation as they fell into the memories.

* * *

**Sorry for the double-cliffie, but the next chapter/s will be worth it, hopefully. :)**

**Jester needs reviews. My muse checks the computer every quarter-hour, looking for sustenance. No joke.**

**Sincerely,**

_**Jester.**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Okay, I can explain. But I won't. **

**Before you all ask, no, this is not the final chapter. This it PART ONE of the final chapter, which I figured you guys deserved because I took so damn long. The other chapter will follow soon, and THAT will be followed by an epilogue.**

**Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish it were mine.**

**Warning: none, really, for this one.**

* * *

Lucius opened his eyes into a world he had half-forgotten- or, at least, tried to forget. Sirius was at his side, tense as the Gryffindor evaluated the dimly lit room that had been born of Lucius' memories.

The other Lucius was young, and confident, easily draped in one chair as he faced the only other person in the ornate room. It was draped in green and sliver drapes, which turned bronze in the fire's glow. A large man with a tattoo of a snake-tongued skull on his forearm was hunched in the opposite chair. The two could not have been more unalike- slim and broad, dark hair and light, loose and stiff. But the two of them shared a regal grace. And the same shade of dove-grey eyes.

"The Dark Lord has been asking me about you, Lucius. You are next in line to enter his inner circle should something happen to me," The dark man reached for a glass, which was releasing a greenish vapor, on the nearby table. "Our family is coming into a place of higher power which it deserves. You must not ruin this for me, for us."

The blonde man tossed his hair over one shoulder and smiled brazenly, looking ready to handle whatever task the Dark Lord could throw at him. "Certainly, Father. I would do no such thing."

"He wishes you to find the place where the Order of the Phoenix meets." The twenty-something Lucius' smile froze in place, dread entering his eyes. The elder Malfoy did not seem to notice, but Sirius took in a quick breath, and Lucius flinched, reliving the moment. "He believes that you possess an anonymity that will prove useful. Not to mention your… looks."

"H-he wants me to find what hordes of Death Eaters cannot?" Lucius said, his smile brittle.

Abraxas sent him a harsh look. "You will not ruin this chance for us. If he wants you to find it, you will. By any means necessary." He took a deep drink of the steaming beverage. "That will be all, Lucius," He added offhandedly, noticing his son had not bounded up and out of the room at the implicit dismissal.

"…Certainly, father." Lucius stood and quickly exited, snatching a glass of an onyx-colored liquid from a table on his way. The pair of memory travelers followed him, watching closely as the past Lucius paused in the hallway, brow furrowed deeply and hands shaking, before he abruptly tossed back the liquid in the glass with a shudder, and strode into the next room. A fire roared there, and Lucius grabbed a handful of green powder from a vase on the floor.

"Thirteen Alban Street, Richmond on Thames."

Sirius gave a start at the other Lucius' side. "That's-"

"Your old apartment. Yes- we had already been seeing each other for two years at this point. Don't you-?"

He couldn't stop himself quite soon enough, and Sirius glared fiercely. "No. I don't remember."

Lucius was silent as the walls of the memory blurred into that of Sirius' old living room. It was decorated in umber and royal blue, with touches of red here and there to show Sirius' distaste of the pre-furnished rooms' style. Sirius emerged from an adjacent room, toweling his hair fiercely with a towel and wearing nothing but a pair of brilliant scarlet pajama bottoms.

Lucius' heart gave a pang, and he could not help but let his eyes flick back and forth between the past and the present. Azkaban had left its mark on Sirius, no doubt about that.

Sirius was tense as he watched the scene unfold, a pained look on his face, trying to recall the scene for himself.

"Lucius?" The younger man looked pleased at the man's abrupt arrival, if a little confused. "Everything alright?"

There was a hesitation- something that anyone else would've overlooked. But the twenty-something Sirius dropped the towel, stepped forward, and placed a hand on Lucius' face, concern etched into his face, any and all pretense gone. "Lucius?"

There was a long pause, and Lucius looked almost ready to speak when he shook his head. His hair fell into his eyes as he bowed his head, lifting a hand to cover Sirius'. "You know I love you."

"Of course," Sirius responded immediately, threading his fingers with Lucius'. "What's gotten into- mmph!"

Watching from Lucius' side, Sirius gasped. When the taller man tore his eyes away from their past selves' embrace, he saw the Gryffindor had averted his eyes, and was blushing more and more deeply by the second. "You've proven your point," Sirius said roughly, grimacing as his past self gave a heavy moan. "Let's move on already."

Lucius nodded, trying not to feel stung. "Very well." He reached out and gripped Sirius' arm, ignoring the way his friend jerked at the contact, and concentrated on the next memory.

_Abraxas paced furiously, occasionally sending a disgusted look his son's way. "A task," He seethed, "A simple task, and yet you failed. For Merlin's sake, Goyle stumbling across it and blathering to you about it was a stroke of outrageous luck. Imagine if he hadn't! You are a disappointment, Lucius."_

_The blonde in question was cradling his left arm, looking extremely pale. None of his previous vigor remained, and he gave the occasional shudder, his fingers clenching on the fabric of his left sleeve._

"_Oh, stop your whining," Abraxas snapped, looking revolted. "You've had worse."_

_But that wasn't true- he hadn't had worse, not worse than this. Nothing was worse than the feeling of terror that had flooded through him the first time he'd laid eyes on Lord Voldemort, or the feeling of shards of ice being woven through his skin at the touch of his master's wand on his forearm._

_Lucius straightened his shoulders, though his head remained bowed. Abraxas shook his head in disgust, and left the room in a flurry of snowy robes. Sleet fell heavily through the study window, highlighted in the air where conjured lights patrolled the icy grounds. The study was dimly lit, the fire dying in the hearth, but as one of the lights drifted past the large panes of glass, a copy of the _Prophet _was illuminated on the table nearby. _

_The headline screamed:_

**Death Eaters Raid Wizarding Home, Six Dead.**

_Beneath the large black words were the pictures of the deceased, each one looking somber as they sent shifty looks at one another. Lucius only knew two of them- Amelia Bones' brother Edgar and sister Aurelia –but he had heard Sirius mention the other four. Emmeline Vance had been three years above Lucius in school, and Denny Diggle, Dedalus' only son, had only been brought up once or twice. The worst, however, were Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Molly Weasley's older brothers. Lucius had once hidden in a closet when they came calling at Sirius' apartment without warning, and had watched Sirius' smile widen genuinely when he opened the door._

_He knew that if he tried to Floo to Sirius' now, he would arrive to find every member of the Order who had been staying at the old hideout sitting, shell-shocked, on the worn couches and on the kitchen counters. And with his arm still stinging with the memory of Voldemort's wand (or did it ever fade?) he doubted he would leave alive._

_Lucius shuddered, hugging his arm more tightly to his chest and bitterly wishing he had changed sides when Sirius had asked. Now it was far, far too late._

_He reached out blindly, almost knocking the bottle of Black Ice-Vodka he sought from the table where it sat. He unscrewed the cap, put the bottle to his lips and threw his head back, shuddering again as the liquid sent splinters of ice into his veins._

"_I'm so sorry, Sirius."_

From his perch near the fireplace, Sirius went rigid at the whispered words. At his side, Lucius' head was bowed, his and white-knuckled on his wand.

"Sh-shall we move on?" Sirius asked quietly, watching the taller man. With a jerky nod, Lucius grasped his arm and transported them to the next memory.

_The rings were lined up in black cases, twelve across and six deep. Some were diamond-encrusted, while others were simple bands of some precious metal or another. Lucius stared into the cases from outside, the icy air slipping over his ears and reddening his cheeks. But he didn't mind- he was busy trying to imagine the look on Sirius' face if he were to propose._

_Shock, probably- Lucius had never been very good at displays of love, and this _certainly _counted- but then what? Horror? Anxiety? Joy? Bewilderment?_

_One ring in particular glinted especially bright, throwing the others into shadow in Lucius' eyes. It was a white-gold circlet, with a small tag at the bottom explaining that the giver was meant to have a charm put on it so that a few choice words inscribed themselves on the inside of the loop whenever the ring was held by one of the married couple. But what would he say? What inside joke was clever enough, what few words could capture the two them?_

"_Lucius, you clever scoundrel! How in the name of Merlin did you find out?"_

_The blonde jerked upright, shock evident on his face for the split second it took to control his appearance. "Dolohov, I assure you I don't know what you mean."_

"_The engagement! Oh, it must've been Crabbe, he's the only one thick enough to spoil the surprise…"_

"_What on earth are you going on about?"_

_The large man's hearty grin faltered in the face of Lucius' polite confusion, lingered a moment longer, and abandoned him completely. "You really didn't know?"_

_Lucius shook his head, and Dolohov grimaced, running a hand through his hair. "Well, don't listen to anything I said, I mean-"_

"_What engagement?" Lucius asked icily._

_The great Death Eater flinched, raising a hand in a placating gesture as he tried to summon his smile once more. "Hold up, don't do anything rash. But seriously, you can't tell anyone I told you this. It was supposed to be a surprise…"_

"_Get to the point!" Lucius snapped._

_Dolohov looked sheepish, but his eyes glinted craftily. "You know, your father has been trying to set up an arranged marriage with you for quite some time. Now that you are one of-" Dolohov waited for a chatting couple to pass before continuing in a whisper, "One of the Dark Lord's chosen few, well, the pickings are a lot slimmer. But just this morning your father sealed the deal! You, my friend, are engaged to Narcissa Black."_

_Lucius was frozen as Dolohov grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "You are one lucky bastard! Have you seen her recently? I mean, she was a year behind me- two in ahead of you, and she was cute then and all, but now- seriously, you could've gotten that Bulstrode girl…"_

_Engaged. Lucius was engaged. What on earth would he say to Sirius?_

"…_The entire Black family are huge supporters of You-Know-Who. Except for that one son of theirs, what's-his-name. Solomon? Sylvester?"_

"_Sirius," Lucius said numbly. He was getting married. To someone who most definitely was _not _who he wanted it to be._

"_Obviously you'll be needing to propose in public, though- but you're looking in the wrong section! The women's rings are inside, she won't want something like this. Witches always like moonstones, or onyx. Diamonds are always nice, but I think they like this fancy, unique bollocks better. And it's not like you can't afford it!"_

"_Yes, of course," Lucius muttered faintly. His eyes strayed to the white-gold band a final time before Dolohov pulled him inside the store to show him some of the "better options."_

The scene changed before Sirius had to ask.

"_How could you do this to me? Do you have any idea what it was like to wake up, and find that this morning's paper's headline was you and- and-"_

_Sirius turned away, a hand over his eyes. Lucius was stuck to the floor near the fireplace. "You gave me no warning-"_

"_What was I supposed to say? I learned about this only two days ago-"_

"_Bollocks! You've been tiptoeing around me for nearly two months. If you're going to lie, then try to be a little more convincing."_

"_Sirius."_

"_No! Don't. I've figured it out for myself. You love her, you've finally found someone that you can parade around in public, you can become one of the Dark Lord's lapdogs now-" Lucius' eyes flickered, but Sirius didn't see. "You can get on with your life, with someone just as heartless and cold as you. I was a chapter, a stage, and I get it. Just don't try to- to convince me that you ever actually-"_

"_I love you. I always did. I always will."_

_Sirius stopped in his frantic pacing, staring at Lucius' face. Then in a blur of motion, he seized the nearest lamp and hurled it at the taller man's face. Lucius ducked just in time. The delicate clay base shattered on impact, and the magical light source gave a shockingly bright pulse as it was crushed against the wards._

"GET OUT!_"_

_A picture came next, the glass shattering at it connected with the wall. Lucius found himself staring at himself and Sirius, laughing and clutching one another behind the webbed glass. Then the table that the pair of objects came flying across the room, clipping Lucius' head so that he staggered before it crashed to the floor, splintering, and Lucius was running for the door, dodging the hail of objects careening across the room towards him._

_Jerking the handle, Lucius slammed the panel of wood behind him, resting against it, listening and breathing hard. There was a long silence, and then, when Lucius turned his head to angle his ear to the door, he could hear quiet sobs drifting through the door._

Sirius and Lucius were pulled along with the young Lucius as he disapparated, into what was recognizable to both of them as the old bedroom.

_Lucius was still and silent for a long stretch of moments before, with a roar, he drew his wand and began blasting anything and everything in the room to pieces._

BANG! _The chest of drawers was ripped apart at the seams._

BANG! _The shelves of books went flying, sending flurries of paper into the air._

BANG! _The lamps imploded with a simultaneous blast of white light._

BANG! _The desk blew up from within, sending every scrap of paper within into the air._

BANG! _The bed came apart, each leg severed from the frame, before the mattress swelled and burst, and fabric flew everywhere, mixing with torn, singed pieces of paper._

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! _The chairs exploded, one by one._

_Then there was stillness again, save for a few last feathers settling in amongst the debris. Lucius was frozen in the remnants of the maelstrom, wand still raised, for countless seconds, tears streaming silently down his cheeks, before his knees buckled and he pressed his face into his hands._

After that came a montage. Lucius and Sirius stood shoulder-to-shoulder and watched silently at the reel of scenes from Lucius' memory:

An Italian restaurant, where Lucius was seated with Narcissa, and he cast repeated looks at the dark-haired man in the opposite corner until he turned to order more wine, revealing his face, which was most certainly not Sirius'.

Then another restaurant, with Sirius, James, and Lily sitting together at the opposite end of the room. Lucius didn't hear a word Narcissa said the entire night.

Then a glimpse of Sirius on a street corner. This time they locked eyes for a moment before Sirius disapparated.

Then a news report Lucius was reading. Voldemort had killed the Potters. Sirius Black was being hunted. Lucius looked like he was dying more and more with every word he read- pale, so pale, and with dull eyes with dark bags beneath.

Then the worst. Sirius Black had been caught, and was being sent to Azkaban without going on trial.

At last, Lucius pulled them from the pensive.

Sirius shuddered, and took a deep breath. Lucius was a statue at his side, his head down, his face concealed by his long hair.

Lucius nodded, taking his hand from Sirius' arm. "You've done as I requested," he said in a dull monotone. "I'll take my leave, so as not to trouble you further."

And as Sirius stared after him in shock, he turned and walked out of the small room.

Sirius was rooted for several long seconds before he ran after him.

"Oy! You don't get to just walk away after showing me that," Sirius shouted at Lucius' back. The man stopped, but didn't turn.

"You really didn't know." Sirius said, watching intently as Lucius' shoulders tensed. "You didn't know about the engagement."

"It was as much a shock to me as it was to you." Lucius responded quietly.

"Alright. So that was then. Why are you here now?" Sirius demanded.

Lucius whirled around and sent Sirius a scathing look. He felt himself flush. "You can't possibly be saying-"

"Why isn't it possible?" Lucius stalked towards him. "Why is it so inconceivable to you that I could still love you? I never loved her, never felt an ounce of what we had. I would have come here the moment I heard you had escaped had it not been for Draco. My son does now deserve to have his entire life be revealed as a lie. I act only to protect him. Often, I am also protecting Narcissa as a result of that. But never, _never _because I love her. She is a friend, someone who has helped me numerous times, but I have hated her in just as many instances for what her arrival in my life meant for us." Lucius stopped, only a foot away. "Because she was pregnant with Draco, I stood by and watched you go to Azkaban, and that decision will haunt me until the day I die." Lucius' eyes were flaming, his voice low and urgent as he struggled to show Sirius years of torment through words and tone.

He took a deep breath. "I love you, Sirius. But I hurt you, badly, and if you want me to turn and walk out this door and never return, I will-"

Sirius surged forward and kissed Lucius, muffling any words that might have followed. Lucius wasted a single moment frozen with shock, and then was kissing Sirius back, molding their mouths together and tracing Sirius' lower lip with his tongue.

They broke away for air, and Lucius whispered, "I'm still a Death Eater, Merlin help me. I would move out in a heartbeat, Sirius, but I can't leave Draco at their mercy-"

"We'll find a way to save him," Sirius murmured, pressing his forehead to Lucius' and breathing a sigh of contentment. "We'll figure everything out."

* * *

***Turns into a puddle of fluff-induced mush* AWWW.**

**Note that there was no slash in this one. Sirius and Lucius don't get down and dirty until the sequel. Soooo... If ya wanna read some of THAT... You'll hafta read the next one. D Oh, Jester is so mean.**

**Alright. I THRIVE on reviews. The more reviews you kind, wonderful, generous people give me, the faster I write. The more motivated I am. Tell me what part you liked best, tell me how I could do better, tell me that you think Lucius and Harry should ditch these other fools and have a threesome with Voldemort, tell me anything!**

**Sincerely,**

_**Jester.**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Oh my GOD! It's DONE! XDDD Wow, I'm so psyched about this. I wrote a 10-song-iPod-Shuffle-Drarry-Drabble-Thing to get me in the Drarry-writing mood, and it WORKED! And I just wrote the rest of the damn chapter! It's like writers' block + Drabbles + Music = More Plot-Bunnies!**

**Anyway, I'll let you guys read. Briefly:**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I know- hard to believe, right? XD**

**Warning: The LEMON you've all been waiting for! :D**

**Enjoy!**

Deep within Hogwarts, a dark-haired man knelt by a fireplace. "Lucius Malfoy's study… _Lucius Malfoy's study_…"

But the green flames flickered back to orange, and Snape stood, swearing out loud as he dusted ash from the hem of his robes. Lucius' fire must have gone out- otherwise, Snape would've been transported to the study whether Lucius was there or not.

But it was imperative that Snape spoke to the man- Dumbledore was genuinely ruffled regarding this mutated Devil's Snare, and it had something to do with Draco. As the boy's Godfather, it was his duty to report his suspicions to Lucius. Lucius, whose first priority was his son. Lucius, who never let his fire go out in case someone had urgent news.

Lucius, who had vanished.

Snape ran his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. It would be fine- he and the other professors would eliminate whatever threat this scrap of vegetation posed, and after that he would be able to contact Lucius. But if something happened to Draco on Severus' watch, and he hadn't contacted Lucius prior to the mishap…

Striding to the window, Snape drew his wand.

"_Expecto Patronum._"

The doe materialized silently, turning its wispy head to look at him. Ignoring the painful ache in his chest that always arose when confronted by the creature, Snape said slowly, "Message to Lucius Malfoy: there has been extended, unexplained activity between Draco and the Potter boy. Will try to fire-call again in the morning with any further details."

The doe bowed her head for a moment before galloping out the open window and vanishing into a blur of white mist.

Snape lingered there a bit longer before walking to his coat rack and snatching his cloak from one of the arms. He wasn't about to let his robes get shredded by some demonic plant.

Harry sat in terse silence in the hidden room. He had paced earlier, but it had done nothing but elevate his anxiety, and he had eventually flung himself onto the plush couch to wait.

Almost an hour had passed, and Draco had yet to appear from the passage leading to the Slytherin common room. Horrible images paraded through Harry's mind: Draco had abandoned their relationship. Lucius had found out, and had pulled Draco out of Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron had cornered Draco and were questioning him about his duel with Harry.

His head swirled, and he ran his hands though his hair. Glancing at a clock mounted on the wall- one that actually told time- Harry was about to get up and fight his way through the sealing charm that had activated once he had entered the room when Draco stumbled through the tapestry, looking haggard.

"Blaise and Theo wouldn't leave. I practically had to boot them out of the boy's dorm." Draco stopped halfway across the room, worry shifting his brow. "Merlin, you look awful. It's not the plant, is it?"

"No- nothing like that, I'm fine," Harry swiped a hand over his face, trying to hide the relief that had flooded him at the sight of the blonde.

Draco knelt beside the chair where Harry sat. "Liar. What's eating you?"

Harry stared. Draco's face was earnest, serious. His gray eyes glinted with affection and worry, and his mouth was an odd combination of a reassuring smile and a worried frown. This was what Harry wanted so desperately- not Draco Malfoy, but _his _Draco. The Draco that only emerged when they were alone.

"I'm afraid." Harry admitted, looking away from the blatant honesty written on Draco's face. "I don't want to lose you. And once the plant has been taken care of, who knows if you'll still feel anything for me…?"

"Don't say that," Draco whispered roughly, pushing his fingers through Harry's hair. "I already told you, I had feelings for you long before this bloody plant came along. I already know that this isn't some one-off, or a random fling. This is real for me." Draco searched Harry's eyes. "Is it for you?"

Harry threw himself at the blonde, locking his arms around Draco's neck as he fell off his haunches. "Very," Harry murmured into the platinum hair near Draco's ear.

"That's good to hear. Now, while the floor is quite comfy, I must confess to a certain liking that I have for chairs and other furniture."

Harry pulled back, laughing, and tugged Draco towards the giant, plush couch that faced the lively fire. The pair of them collapsed there, twined together, and though it had not been his intention, Harry found his lips gravitating closer to Draco's. From what he had said, he had just spent almost an hour trying to innocently get a pair of suspicious-by-nature Slytherins to leave the dorm, but he looked as if he had spent the time in some sort of spa instead. If Harry didn't have Draco all to himself (and if he didn't make such bloody good eye candy), Harry might've thrown a fit. But as it was… Harry was a few bare inches away from kissing him when his stomach growled loudly.

Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry drew back. "I can't help it! I barely ate at all during lunch, I was so worried, and it's dinner time now."

His stomach gurgled at the mention of dinner, and Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "Good thing we have help in that department. Dobby?"

They both flinched as a crack reminiscent of a whip rang through the air, even though they were expecting it, and Dobby was suddenly perched on the coffee table, waving his thin arms to and fro to avoid falling. He succeeded, but not without kicking over the silver teapot which had been sitting innocently on the black marble table.

"Master Malfoy summoned Dobby?" The elf was wearing what looked like a tablecloth made into a toga, and a fedora stacked on top of a cowboy hat.

"Er- yes. If it's not too much trouble, Harry and I will be needing two servings of tonight's chicken, mushroom risotto, and perhaps some of the pears." He paused, and added, "And a bowl of your best chocolate chips, if possible."

"Right away, good sirs!" Dobby chirped, bowing so low that his fedora toppled to the floor before he popped away.

Draco and Harry stared at the empty space formerly occupied by Dobby for a few moments before looking at one another. Draco smirked _that smirk _and Harry could already feel himself starting to flush. "He will only be gone a few moments," Harry reminded Draco, backing up on the sofa and gulping when the Slytherin pursued him. "And he's already popped in on us-" Harry yelped as his back touched the armrest and Draco continued to close in. "-on us in bed-"

"So it can't get any worse," Draco purred, planting a hand on either side of Harry's head and effectively caging him. "Even so… _Accio quilt!_"

A quilted blanket big enough for Hagrid to sleep comfortably beneath lifted itself and swooped over to cover the entire couch, and the coffee table (the rest of the tea set fell over loudly as the heavy fabric settled over them), and quite possibly the fireplace. Harry couldn't tell exactly, as any light from the fire or the wall sconce was blocked by the heavy material. Draco, a fuzzy dark shape above him, paused a moment, seeming to evaluate the abrupt lack of light or sound from the fire, before laughing. "This wasn't what I expected."

"What exactly _did_ you expect?" Harry asked dryly. One of Draco's hands fluttered around at his stomach before finding the hem of Harry's school shirt and going to work on the buttons.

"Something nice and inconspicuous that we could roll around under, naked, while Dobby drops off our food." Harry _wanted _to be able to say that Draco was joking, but really, it was impossible to be sure. The hand working Harry's shirt open didn't seem to be joking.

Draco's mouth brushed Harry's chin, before finding its way to Harry's lips and molding to them hungrily. Harry gasped as Draco's teeth grazed his bottom lip, feeling a thread of familiar lust slither down his spine. Finally undoing the last button, Draco slid his free hand under the material and splayed his fingers across Harry's back. The air under the blanket was hot and heady, and all Harry could smell was Draco's crisp cologne. Harry threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of Draco's neck, arching his back and shivering when his nipples brushed the fabric of Draco's shirt.

_Crack!_

Draco sat bolt upright, freeing his hands to claw at the quilt until he tossed a corner of it over his and Harry's heads . Dobby was waist-deep in the endless black fabric, holding two large trays of food high above his head. Harry scrambled to make room for the tray on his lap, seeing as the table was buried in fabric, and ended up with his back pressed to Draco's chest in the taller boy's lap. At Harry's direction, Dobby handed one tray to Harry and placed the other on a square of unoccupied floor near the fire.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, meaning it even more than usual as his stomach gave a hearty growl. Draco echoed his thanks, and Dobby bowed low, losing his cowboy hat in the process.

"It is truly Dobby's pleasure, good sirs! Dobby's honor!" Dobby cried, bowing once more before vanishing.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Draco teased Harry's ear with his teeth.

"Stop that. Food first, _then _you can bite me."

"Promise?"

Harry stiffened, and sent a reproving look over his shoulder. "Hush."

Draco's arms encircled Harry on both sides, one arm stretching innocently to pluck a roll from the tray while the other snuck inside Harry's shirt to caress his ribs. It wasn't a terribly impressive feat, seeing as Harry had made no attempt to button the shirt back up again.

But Harry was _hungry, _dammit, and he was going to eat before Draco dragged him into bed. Not that he would be protesting too much, once he'd eaten…

Harry leaned back against Draco's chest, letting out a satisfied groan as the perfect risotto touched his lips. Behind him, Draco pressed closer. "If you're expecting me to not ravish you during dinner," he growled, "Don't make such tempting sounds. Just a thought."

Harry grinned broadly, shifting purposefully on Draco's lap before turning so he could see Draco's face, careful so as not to upset the tray. The blonde was glowering, but not very convincingly. After a moment, his resolve faded altogether and he smiled.

"The bloody enormous quilt mussed your hair even more than usual. Normally we have to have been in bed for hours before it gets that messy."

Harry choked on his food, face flaming as he glared at Draco, who was looking quite innocuous. "What? There are much worse things I could have said. I could've said, 'after we've been fu-"

Harry tossed a roll at Draco's nose, which, from a point-blank range, bounced harmlessly off and tumbled away. "Don't talk dirty to me." Ignoring Draco's mumbled _too late_, Harry continued, "If you're not going to eat, then tell me a story."

Draco appeared to be bemused, rubbing his chin. "What sort of story?"

"Any kind. _Not that kind_," Harry added quickly when he saw the gleam return to Draco's eyes. He buttoned a few of the shirt buttons to make sure Draco didn't get any premature ideas.

"Bugger. You're no fun," Draco harrumphed, putting his head on Harry's shoulder. "Fine. Once upon a time, there was a young, unkempt lad named Lord Potter."

"I'm not unkempt!" Harry protested, and Draco laughed merrily in his ear. "Of course you are, and don't interrupt." When Harry stayed reluctantly silent, he continued. "And Lord Harry was beloved far and wide as the noblest Lord in all of… er… Gryffindoria." At this, Harry let out a bark of laughter, and Draco flicked him in the ear. "Hush. As I was saying, Lord Harry was fawned over everywhere. He had wonderful friends, and a bloody annoying little ginger twit who was madly in love with him-" Draco grumbled the last bit, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs, "but he still wasn't happy. He began wandering the castle at night, trying to collect his thoughts.

"One night, Lord Harry stumbled across a tricky, sly plant known as Demon's Gambit, and was quickly trussed up. The evil plant was about to swallow Harry whole, when the noble Prince Draco suddenly rode in on his mighty steed and dispatched the plant immediately. Lord Harry was _ever _so grateful, and he said," Draco put on a high falsetto, "'Oh, glorious Prince, how _ever _can I repay you?' And the wildly good-looking Prince said, 'Why, your virginity will do quite nicely-"

Harry sprayed soup across the hearth, and coughed forcefully until, eyes watering, he turned to Draco, doing his best not to cave in and laugh. "You tosser! That story was perfectly fine until you got to the part with the bloody-" But he couldn't help it: one look at Draco's naughty grin was enough to send Harry into a raucous fit of laughter.

"Yes, I know, it was a work of literary genius, wasn't it?" Draco asked with a put-upon prestigious air about him. "Find a pen, won't you? I simply _must _record it before it escapes my brain. And the sequel, too, of course."

Harry wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "Sequel?"

Draco's eyes were glittering deviously. "Why, of course! Part two, where Prince Draco turns into a werewolf on the full moon, and chases Lord Harry around the castle."

A thrill went down Harry's spine. "You're joking, right?"

Draco blinked slyly, a predatory smile splitting his face. "Not at all, my Lord."

The dishes went flying as Harry sprang up and scrambled across the room, excitement making him clumsy as he dove behind the bed. As he peeked over it, his heart racing, he saw Draco, still grinning that evil grin, facing him from the other side of the bed.

"Come now, Harry," Draco purred, and the voice alone made Harry's cock swell. "There's no sense in running. You know I'll _catch you_."

Draco made a wild leap onto the bed, and Harry fled with a squeak. As he made a break for it, something wrapped around his hips, and he went down, landing face-first a puddled section of blanket. Draco's hands gripped his hips, and Harry wiggled frantically, his breath coming in swift pants as he fought to free himself. He'd never thought that something like this could be so… _Exciting…_

But he felt something give, and he scrabbled away on the floor, before skidding around the other side of the couch.

Draco sat in the middle of the floor, looking stunned as he stared at what he held. Then the wicked smile returned to his face with a vengeance, and his eyes shone with arousal as he looked up slowly, lifting his prize: Harry's trousers.

Harry made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and resisted the urge to try and cover himself. It wouldn't make any difference.

"Mmm, Harry," Draco murmured, getting to his feet slowly. "I do hope you're naked under that shirt."

Harry's face flamed, and he was glad he had buttoned said shirt as he replied primly, "No, as a matter of fact, I'm not."

"A pity. We'll have to change that, won't we?" Draco took a lazy stance, leaning on the back of the couch. "But I'll make you a deal: If you take off your pants, I'll give you a ten second head start."

Harry stared, his face even redder. "Th-there's nowhere to hide!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about hiding?"

A flush of mortification was seeping out of his bones, but it did nothing to quell the hot lust running through his veins. Harry took a deep breath and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down carefully and making sure his shirt kept him covered. From the look in Draco's eyes, however, he needn't have bothered.

"You said ten seconds," Harry reminded sharply, words which would've been more impressive if they hadn't been quite so breathy.

Draco nodded once, sent Harry a last, scorching look that made Harry swallow in anticipation, and turned around. He covered his eyes with his hand, and Harry darted towards the bed, suspecting that the blonde said ten, when he really meant _five_…

Harry dove beneath the neatly mounded pillows, wriggling and rearranging until he couldn't feel any drafts or see any light. It was a lame hiding spot and he knew it, but unlike most victims, he _wanted _to get caught.

And Draco, who stared ripping pillows of the bed in under three seconds, seemed more than happy to oblige.

Once the last downy pillow that had concealed Harry was on the floor, Draco snatched Harry's wrists and pinned them to the mattress above his head. This made the shirt lift until it barely covered him- the tent in the fabric wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Draco devoured him with his eyes, running over every inch of Harry's body until Harry began to shift in place slightly, still panting slightly. Draco smirked. "And when the Prince caught his prey, he took off his mask, and told his Lord," he leaned in close, until their noses brushed. "'Your ass looks delectable when you're running from me.'"

"He did _not _say that," Harry whispered, trembling slightly.

Draco chuckled. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But in this version on the story, it sure is true…"

Then he crushed his lips to Harry's, and Harry moaned into the kiss, arching up and begging with his body to be released. Draco obliged, and Harry tangled his fingers into Draco's hair, gasping when Draco's bare hands cupped his ass and kneaded. The blonde's tongue traced Harry's, and he bit Harry's lower lip, pulling slightly.

When Harry finally broke away for air, Draco just moved lower, running his lips over Harry's jaw and over his throat, scraping his teeth over Harry's jugular. "Aren't you- aren't you going to-?" Harry struggled to get his breath back, and hooked a leg over Draco's hips to help get his point across.

"Of course," Draco murmured into the skin under Harry's ear, giving his ass a final squeeze before pulling his hands back to fumble with his pocket. "Lube," He whispered, tugging Harry's earlobe with his teeth to keep his attention.

"R-right- Ah!" Harry gasped as Draco's slick finger began entering him. The feeling was a familiar precursor to what was to come, and Harry couldn't help but shiver, clenching on the finger that was entering him so slowly. Draco growled low in his throat, nipping Harry's collarbone. With his free hand, Draco set about getting off his pants. Once they were at his knees, he kicked them off and pulled away from Harry's neck, devoting his full attention to preparing Harry.

As always, Harry felt immensely exposed as Draco dragged his fingers in and out of his body, surveying Harry's body with those sharp eyes. Especially when the blonde's deft fingers found his prostate, and he bucked helplessly. Whenever that happened, the look in Draco's eyes made Harry blush, so pure was the _want_. But before long, he ached for something bigger.

"Draco, ple-ah!-se, just-" Harry gripped the bedsheets with both hands, trying not to grind on Draco's fingers. He bit his lip, but the moans kept spilling out with each bolt of pleasure.

"I'm enjoying myself right here, Harry," Draco chickled. "Don't tell me you aren't, as well." When Draco's fingers trailed along the underside of his cock, Harry thought he'd come right then and there.

Then it tripled.

Harry arched, pushing back on Draco's fingers as the waves of lust overtook him. He could feel Draco trembling beside him, and all he could think was getting Draco inside him, _now._ Harry trembled and gasped as each fresh surge of arousal swept through him, pulling at Draco. The blonde spun him roughly, positioning himself at Harry's entrance, and hesitated. Harry could've screamed in frustration. Here he was, dying, and Draco was still worried about _hurting _him? He bucked heavily against the tip of Draco's cock, trying to convey his message that way, since his lips weren't really working too well.

Then Draco sheathed himself in one hard thrust, and Harry let out a shout, putting his hands over his head to press against the headboard to get leverage to push back against the intrusion. Draco pulled out and plunged back in with a groan, so hard and deep that Harry thought he saw stars. Draco set a fast pace and Harry met each thrust with vigor, relishing each renewed rush of ecstasy. But as the pleasure reached new heights, Harry found himself aching to come. But something was holding him back, something not under his control.

_The plant,_ A far away part of him insisted, _It's the bloody plant again. _

But Harry didn't really _care _what was causing it. He just wanted whatever it was to go hex itself, so that he could _come…_ it was as if each deep, grinding thrust against his prostate built up the pressure, but the dam couldn't burst.

Seeming to sense (or share) his dilemma, Draco's hand wrapped around his erection, pumping it between the bone-shaking thrusts. Harry writhed, unable to even push back as the pleasure overwhelmed him. It was too much, far too much; he didn't know how he was going to stand it…

Then the barriers seemed to fall, and Harry arched with a scream as the sensations met in an earth-shaking crescendo, and he came harder than he ever had before. Dimly, he felt Draco bury his face in Harry's shoulder, riding out his own climax, but Harry's brain didn't seem to want to function after going through the best sex it had ever had.

Snuggling up with Draco, Harry knew he should be remembering something. Something important that had been bugging him. But as his eyes fluttered shut, he couldn't bring himself to dwell on whatever it was.

**Epilogue should be up tomorrow, so be on the lookout! :) Three little reviews from the 10-song Drabbles motivated me to finish the chapter, so if you want me to get cracking... Well... Review! XD**

Sincerely,

_Jester_


	27. Epilogue

**Here it is, as promised! :) More info at the bottom. Enjoy!**

**Warning: None, this time.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh***

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Harry sat in Dumbledore's office, shifting occasionally and glancing at the clock mounted on the shelves near the Sorting Hat, the one that actually told time rather than the locations of various people. It wasn't like Dumbledore to keep him waiting like this, especially since he'd been very serious when he had told Harry to meet him.

Two weeks had passed since the Devil's Snare had been taken down by the professors. He and Draco later found out that the teachers had slaved away with endless spells and shield charms for nearly four and a half hours. The two of them had spent the sixteen hours following the plant's demise sleeping, and had woken feeling very sore and very embarrassed, but still very much a couple, to both of their reliefs. Harry sometimes caught himself tracing Draco's face with his gaze from across the Great Hall, or one of their classes, his mind reeling over the fact that Draco was _his_. Draco would certainly be miffed to hear Harry say this aloud, but Harry had caught him staring enough times to know that he felt the same. They had been meeting regularly in their secret meeting place, but had yet to go on their dates due to the overbearing reactions of Ron and Hermione.

Not to their relationship, of course- Harry was nowhere near ready to let them know _that_- but about the cover story that Dumbledore had told them, after a great deal of pleading on Harry's part. The explanation was that Harry and Draco had been cursed by an unknown person to compulsively hex one another whenever they were within a certain distance of each other, or whenever the caster was feeling especially bored. This lie meant that no one but Harry, Draco, Dumbledore, Dobby, and Professor Sprout knew the truth. Even the other professors didn't know who had been taken over by the plant.

Ron and Hermione had greeted this development with great relief, which made Harry feel terribly guilty. His friends were genuinely happy to hear that Harry was going to be okay, and had stopped sending each other worried glances when they thought he wasn't watching. Well, Ron did, at least. Sometimes when Harry was yawning after a late-night rendezvous with Draco, he would glimpse Hermione looking quickly at Ron, who did not reciprocate.

Sirius had apparently taken the lie well, but Harry had a sinking feeling that his Godfather knew more than he let on- especially after the mirror-call that Harry had instigated…

The mirror!

Harry sat bolt upright with a gasp. The mirror was still in the drawer in the Room of Requirement- he had never retrieved it! He stood and dashed over to the door, prepared to run the whole way back to the fifth floor, even if it killed him.

But as his hand closed on the knob, a low voice interrupted him.

"I wouldn't leave this office just yet, Potter. The Headmaster is not far away."

Harry whirled around in a circle, looking for the source of the words. But there was no one- even the paintings were not feigning sleep this time. There wasn't a soul in the office.

"Look up, you bamboozled buffoon. No, not the ceiling! The shelves."

Harry's eyes alighted on the Sorting Hat, his heart racing. "You…?"

"My, you are a clever one," the rip at the brim opened and closed to form the words, and the wrinkles and rips where its eyes would've been deepened, as though they were narrowing. "I don't know why I ever considered placing you in Ravenclaw. Or perhaps being tossed about by the Dark Lord has addled your brains."

Harry stared for a few long moments, trying not to be offended. One particular fact stood out to him. "You still remember what you said to me at the beginning of first year?"

"Of course. What else would I do with the infinite space and knowledge available to me?"

Harry was flabbergasted. "You remember everyone's mind that you ever sorted? That's impossible- you would have to have had hundreds of thousands of students!"

The hat looked haughty. "Certainly. I tend to reflect on the more interesting decisions when I've grown weary of thinking up a new sorting song."

Despite the hat's smug timbre, Harry found himself cautiously moving closer. "What makes someone interesting?"

"A balanced wizard or witch has a mind of Ravenclaw logic, Slytherin cunning, and Hufflepuff drive, along with a Gryffindor heart. Usually, one of these attributes stands out, and ties in to one's character, although no one ever has the same amount of one thing or another. In a rare instance, the witch or wizard will be consumed by one of these four aspects, as in the case of the Dark Lord, who was overtaken by his Slytherin nature. It infected his heart, strangling any nobility he once had. Any trace of it was gone by the time I sorted him. In other cases, which are not quite as rare, but hard to find nonetheless, a person's spirit has two primary drives. In the case of Albus Dumbledore, it worked to his advantage. His mind was one of the strongest that I've ever sensed, with a heart to match. Then," The hat snapped out of its misty, drifting voice, turning crafty and unconvincingly nonchalant: "We have those of rivaling Gryffindor and Slytherin nature. Only eight of notable magnitude have ever passed under my brim in the history of Hogwarts… and four of them have been in the last thirty years."

Harry felt his heart rate pick up. "Wh-who were…?"

"Lucius Malfoy was the first. He was unexpected, to say the least, because of his lineage. When I was sorting him, I could practically taste the pure blood in his veins, and smell the anxiety that came off him in waves as he prayed to be in Slytherin, to make his father proud. Even if he had not prayed, I'd have put him there. That day, his Slytherin mind was a hairsbreadth above his Gryffindor heart in the battle for control. But I do not believe it will always be true…

"The likes of his conflictions I have seen rarely- the heart and mind are usually more different in strength, if only slightly- but a few more of his kind have passed my inspections. There was his son, of course, driven by the same frantic desire to please his father. But I do wonder if I went wrong, let his surface thoughts dissuade me… Sirius Black, whose mind is understandable, considering his origin- I only wonder whose heart he stole, the clever boy- and, of course, you. Harry Potter. The Chosen One."

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**Ooh, intrigue! :D **

**Many thanks to all of you for supporting my writing throughout the past year, and for all of your kind reviews! I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

**Obviously, though, this story isn't quite finished yet. Not by a long shot, actually. :) I'm starting work on part 2, which will indeed be posted before too long. Those of you who are pleased with this happy-ish ending don't have to read it, but I do hope you will.**

**As I've said so many, many times before, reviews DO motivate me to write faster. I would love to hear any and all ideas you all have for the next however many chapters of the next stage. I have a basic plotline, but I can always use new ideas! :)**

**Thank you all for being so wonderful!**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


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